The Puckleberry Shuffle
by Ms. Redd
Summary: Random Puckleberry one-shots inspired by my iPod. Some friendship, some relationship, all P/R-centric. Labeled 'complete' because each story is completed, but new stories will continue to be added.
1. Wild Ponies

**Ok, so this is going to be a series of one-shots all based on the infinite, random wisdom of my iPod. The stories won't be in any particular order, and they may not even exist in the same universe, but they will all be Puckleberry. Some will be friendship while others will be relationship, but they will all revolve around Puck and Rachel in some way. This first one is admittedly long, but still a one-shot story, as they all will be. I will put the title and author of the song at the beginning of each story, so if you don't know it, or even if you do, I suggest listening to the song either before or during reading, especially since some of them won't even be released for the radio. Enjoy!**

**~.~**

"**Wild Ponies" – Kellie Pickler**

"Hey Q, I need you to do me a favor."

"This wouldn't be anything like the last favor I did for you would it? Because I don't exactly have nine months to spare."

"Haha, very funny. No, I need you to sing this during glee today." Puck shoved a set of sheet music in her face.

"Sing your own song Puck." Quinn slammed her locker and started walking toward her next class. "I don't know that Sam would appreciate me singing a song for my ex-boyfriend, or, well, whatever you are."

"Song's not exactly my style Q, and besides, your voice is actually kind of perfect for it. I didn't come to you because I have some big thing for you; I came to you because you would be good at it." Puck rolled his eyes. Yeah, so he and Quinn had a past. That didn't mean he was still hung up on her. "And I'll assure Sam myself that you're not singing it for me. Well, I guess you're singing it _for_ me, cause I asked you to do it, but it won't be _to_ me. It's just something that needs to be done."

Quinn hesitantly took the papers from her team mate. "And what am I supposed to do? Just stand up in the middle of glee club and announce that I have something to show everyone? I'm not Rachel," she scoffed.

"Ok, first of all, why do you need to bring Rachel into this? She's not even here and you're bashing on her? Give it a rest." Puck tried to control the anger caused by Quinn saying something negative about Rachel, but it didn't work. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Anyway," he continued much more calmly, "you'll know when the time is right. And if you don't, I'll tell you."

Quinn looked at him skeptically, and seeing sincerity in his eyes for once, she sighed and placed the sheet music in her binder. "Fine, I'll look at the song and as long as it isn't something completely ridiculous I'll consider it." Puck winked at her, trying to inject some sense of normalcy into the situation as he and Quinn went their separate ways to their first hour classes.

~.~

Quinn looked for Puck as she sat in the choir room after school. She had looked at the music he had given her. The song wasn't bad. In fact, she was kind of familiar with it and it was actually pretty beautiful. She just didn't understand why he wanted her to sing it. As her classmates filed in, she got lost in her quest to find Puck when Sam came to sit next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, talking animatedly about something that had happened that day. Before she had a chance to look for Puck again, Mr. Schuester was in the front of the room addressing the class. "Ok guys, so we're going to pick up where we left off with this week's assignments. Who's up next?"

"Hey, where's Rachel?" All eyes turned to Mercedes. "Has anyone seen her today?" The room was quiet for a moment as each member of the glee club considered that no, they had not in fact seen Rachel that day.

"I noticed she wasn't in English," Kurt added. "But I thought maybe she just had an appointment or something. She never misses glee! And she needs to get her little plaid-clad behind in here, cause I've got news!" Kurt looked around the room, attempting to build the suspense but quickly noticing that no one seemed all that interested, "Carol is taking me to New York over fall break and she got me two tickets to Wicked. I'm gonna take Rachel!" Mercedes squealed and hugged her friend as Finn smiled at his step-brother from across the room. He was glad Rachel had those two. Sure, he and Rachel were no longer together, and that was on him. He had screwed up, made some major mistakes and taken her way too much for granted, and now he was paying for it. But even if they weren't together, he still cared about her, a lot, and he was happy that she actually had good friends now. Especially since St. Jackass had conveniently come back to town during one of his stupider moments post-break up and had effectively wormed his way back into Rachel's life before Finn had a chance to come to his senses. He thought that Rachel's friendship with Mercedes and Kurt was one good way to keep her grounded while dating Jesse, who wasn't exactly encouraging of her status in glee anymore. Finn was pretty sure he heard Jesse mumble something when Kurt said he was going to take Rachel to New York. He would have to make sure to talk to Kurt and convince him not to let Rachel back out of this trip, no matter what excuses she came up with. Jesse had isolated her from most of the rest of glee already with his controlling ways; he couldn't break up the diva trio too.

Quinn scanned the room, seeing the intrigued faces that matched her own. Kurt was right; it was very out of character for Rachel to miss glee. She wondered if there was something really wrong. Was she sick? And even if she was, it would have to be bad. She had still shown up in her pajamas with that ridiculous cereal bowl when she had laryngitis. Quinn saw that everyone looked confused, talking quietly to one another about where Rachel might be. Everyone except the two boys in the back corners of the room. Jesse, their so-called 'consultant' sat in one corner looking very disinterested and studying his nails. _'Odd,' _Quinn thought, _'he of all people should be able to shed some light on why Rachel isn't here.'_ In the opposite corner Quinn found Puck, who must have arrived after she started talking to Sam. Puck was slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, staring daggers at Jesse. Hit with a realization, Quinn gasped as she jumped to pull her binder from her book bag.

"Everything ok babe?" Sam looked concerned.

"Yeah, there's um, just something I have to do." Quinn answered him as Puck's words ran through her mind. _'You'll know when the time is right.'_ "Mr. Schuester, I have a song I'd like to share with the class." Quinn made eye contact with Puck when she reached the front of the room and he nodded at her, almost imperceptibly.

"Umm, you already performed your assignment this week Quinn, remember?" Mr. Schuester looked at her with a slightly worried expression. First Rachel was out and now Quinn seemed to be having memory problems. Was something bad going around?

"I know, this is just something else I'd like to sing," Quinn turned on the charm as she looked at her teacher sweetly. "Consider it … extra credit! Only I don't really expect any points out of it or anything, I just think everyone here really needs to hear this song."

"Ok then, take it away I guess. Oh, and as soon as someone does hear from Rachel, I'd love to know how she is." The teacher turned his attention back to the class before taking a seat at the side of the room. Quinn handed the music to Brad, realizing that suddenly the song's lyrics seemed to be burned into her brain. She scanned the classroom one last time, starting with Puck, who winked and gave her a very small smile, then landing on someone else.

_**She was a beautiful girl  
>She was wild as the wind<br>On top of the world  
>'Till she fell in love with him<br>Everyone told her that he was bad news  
>A boy goin nowhere ain't no good for you<strong>_

As Quinn began singing, all eyes were on her. Santana turned to roll her eyes at Brittany; of course Quinn would sing a song where she got to call herself a "beautiful girl." Most of the rest of the class didn't seem to mind, watching and waiting, since many of them were not familiar with the country song. As she came to the end of the first verse, Sam started to grow uncomfortable, feeling his teammates' eyes on him as his girlfriend sang. _'What the hell did I do?'_ He stared at her with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He felt as if he were silently pleading with Quinn to just stop singing so she could tell him what in the world was going on. He was starting to hear whispers behind him and he didn't like it one bit. But as he stared at Quinn, he realized something. She wasn't staring back. She was looking somewhere else entirely, and not looking very happy.

_**Cause wild ponies are born to run  
>Don't you know wild ponies<br>Don't belong to no one  
>So baby, run, run, run away<strong>_

Sam twisted in his chair to follow Quinn's line of sight. She was shooting daggers toward the back of the room, attempting to kill Jesse with her glare. Mercedes saw Sam turn, and first assumed he was only trying to avoid Quinn since he had obviously screwed up big time. However, when she looked over to Quinn and saw that she seemed to be looking in the same direction as Sam, she nudged Kurt and they both turned to look at Jesse as well. Slowly, the other glee club members all began to notice that the attention was being shifted to their recent addition and they turned as well, all except Puck, who had been studying Jesse the entire time. Once they realized that Quinn was singing to Jesse, it wasn't hard to figure out that she was singing _about_ him. And she wasn't singing about herself, she was singing about a different girl, one with whom she had a very odd, strained relationship. It was no secret to the glee clubbers that Rachel and Jesse's relationship was different from most, and they could all see that she had changed since she started dating him again, but none of them, except maybe Finn, had ever called the relationship bad. And they all attributed Finn's negativity to jealousy. The students kept their eyes on Jesse but continued listening to the words coming from Quinn's mouth, waiting to hear what came next in the unfamiliar song.

_**The first time he hit her  
>Was right after church<br>He said he was sorry  
>But it only got worse<strong>_

Puck kept his eyes on St. James, but saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Finn lunged, almost jumping out of his chair as soon as the word "hit" left Quinn's lips. Puck leaned over and grabbed Finn's shoulders, shoving him back into his chair. He couldn't blame Finn for the reaction; Puck was pissed as hell himself. But he wanted to let the situation play out a bit more. Finn turned to his friend with clenched fists and gritted teeth. Puck shook his head deliberately and Finn settled back into his seat. He knew that expression; it meant "Not now, but soon." _'He better know what he's doing,_' Finn thought. _'What the hell does he know anyway? Obviously more than me.'_ Finn wasn't sure how to feel about knowing that Puck knew something about Rachel that he didn't.

_**Now she's not the same girl  
>That she used to be<br>He's breaking her spirit  
>He's fencing her dreams<strong>_

Once Puck was satisfied that Finn was going to stay put for the time being, he moved to turn back toward the subject of the song. He didn't want to let the asshole out of his sight any longer than necessary. As he turned, he saw that Mike and Sam had both turned toward him and Finn as well, their mouths open and their eyes full of anger and questioning him. His jaw clenched as he made eye contact with each of them and nodded. Both boys tightened their hands into fists and scooted to the edges of their seats, ready to move at the first indication from Puck, their unofficial leader.

_**Cause wild ponies are born to run  
>Don't you know wild ponies<br>Don't belong to no one  
>So baby, run, run, run away<strong>_

Kurt and the girls continued to stare at Jesse, stealing glances at one another occasionally. Kurt reached both hands in opposite directions, grasping Mercedes's hand in one and Tina's hand in the other. Tina's free hand flew up to cover her mouth as she felt Mike tensing beside her. She knew he was itching to go after Jesse, and she wondered why he hadn't yet, but she couldn't take her eyes off the apparent traitor in their midst. Brittany could sense the tension in the room, but she didn't seem to understand why, so she looked between Artie and Santana, hoping one of her two closest friends could fill her in. Santana nodded at Artie and pulled Brittany close to whisper in her ear. Artie reached out to squeeze Britt's hand when he saw the tears slip from her eyes. Brittany got herself caught up in some bad stuff sometimes, thanks to Santana and Sue Sylvester, but she really was a very sweet, innocent person and he knew it broke her heart to know that Jesse had hurt Rachel.

_**She went out for groceries  
>Just an ordinary day<br>She realized she was just a block from the interstate  
>She sat at the stop light<br>The wheel in her hands  
>And when the light changed<br>She knew this was her chance**_

The girls turned back to the front of the room, watching Quinn as they heard her voice crack when she reached the last verse of the song. Although she knew how the song ended before she started singing it, the realization of it hadn't come over her until she actually said the words aloud. Watching her, all the other girls figured out what Quinn was just realizing; Rachel wasn't sick, she was gone. He had driven her away.

Puck watched Jesse slip out of the room almost unnoticed when the girls turned their attention back to the performer in front of them. He knew the other guys were watching him, waiting. He wasn't going to let him get away, they should know that. He just wanted to give him a minute or two's head start to think he was getting away; it would be more fun that way. There was only one way to get to the parking lot from the choir room, so he wasn't worried about losing him. As he waited, Sam's, Mike's, and Finn's eyes on him, he thought back to what brought him to this point.

_On Saturday evening, Puck sat on his couch, feet propped on the coffee table and ready to enjoy a quiet evening at home since his mom was working the night shift and his sister was at a sleepover. Yeah, he was a badass, but he had partied pretty hard Friday night, and even badasses need a break sometimes. He actually really relished in his alone time at home, especially since he didn't get it often. He cursed under his breath when he heard the doorbell ring. He shuffled to the front door, taking the long way around to make a loop through the laundry room and grab a t-shirt from the clean stack. It was probably just one of the guys wanting to play COD or something, but better to be prepared just in case. _

_He rolled his eyes when he peeked around the curtain on the front door and saw Rachel, in all her diva-glory, standing on his porch with her arms crossed wearing large, dark sunglasses. The sun was well on its way to setting, the sunglasses were a bit much. He threw the shirt over his shoulder and flung the door open, "Alright Berry, what is it?" He sounded exasperated at first, but his voice softened when he opened the screen door and realized that her nose was red and he saw the tear tracks staining her cheeks. "Rachel? What's wrong?" She continued to stand on the porch, her arms crossed over her chest and clutching her body. "C'mon, get in here," he tried to soften his voice even more to sound inviting. He didn't like that she was standing on his front porch crying. He wanted to get to the bottom of the problem, stat. _

_He reached out the door and grasped her arm, prepared to pull her gently into the house. He was not prepared for her to gasp and yank her arm away from him. His eyes grew and he looked at her in confusion. "I … I got hit with a softball at a family picnic. It's still sore," she stammered out an explanation for her surprising reaction as she stepped gingerly into the house. Puck nodded, apparently willing to accept her explanation. _

"_Ok, well, you're here for something, and obviously you're upset, so let's go talk about it." Puck moved toward the living room, but turned back when he realized Rachel was not beside him. She had taken maybe two steps inside the house before she stopped, again hugging herself in what appeared to be an attempt to either keep warm or stop herself from shaking. "Berry, you know we're friends now. And if something happened, I'm here for you. But I'd rather be here for you _in there_." He gestured toward the living room as he placed his hand midway up her back and pushed her in the direction of the couch. She grimaced and squeaked out a loud cry when his hand landed on her back. "Rachel?" he questioned her kindly, but firmly. This wasn't right. Rachel was not a clumsy person; the only time he'd ever seen her have an accident was because of dancing too close to Finn. Without a word, he hooked the fingers of his right hand under the hem of her shirt and gripped her shoulder in his left hand to keep her from moving. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding when she didn't react to his touch. At least she wasn't hurt there. _

_Puck mumbled a long string of curses, trying to keep his voice low so that Rachel wouldn't hear him, when he saw the flat bruise running all the way from one side of her back to the other. "That's not from a softball, Berry."_

"_I fell on the stairs," she mumbled. He could barely hear her. "My foot slipped and I went down on my back." He shook his head. How dare she lie to him! It was no coincidence that showed up on his door crying and bearing mysterious bruises. He walked around to face her, cupping her elbows in his hands, careful not to hurt her but not wanting to give her a chance to get away from him. "Take off your glasses Rachel." She didn't move, just kept hugging her body and staring at the floor. "Berry. Take. Off. Your. Fucking. Glasses." He felt her shudder, and he really did feel bad about being so harsh, but if she didn't take them off soon, he was going to do it himself, and as pissed as he was, he didn't trust himself to do it without hurting her. After a deep breath, she reached up and slowly removed the sunglasses, revealing a fresh, dark bruise over her left eye, complete with a small cut crusted with dried blood at the corner of the eye. "Oh my God!" He leaned forward and grabbed her, wrapping one arm high around her shoulders and dropping the other low onto her hips, hoping not to hit anymore bruises. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he pulled her closer to him and she melted into his body, wrapping her arms around his back and clutching at his shoulder blades. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and began to sob._

"_Shh, it's ok. I'm here, Rach. I'm here." He wanted to rub her back, but he was afraid of hurting her, so he settled for planting soft kisses just above her ear and murmuring what he hoped were comforting words. After a few moments, he guided her to the couch without breaking the embrace. "Stay here, ok. I'll be right back." He kissed her softly on the top of her head once more after he had her comfortably seated on the couch. He threw on his shirt and ran up the stairs two at a time to his room and bathroom, then quickly went back down to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. Rachel looked up as he returned to the living room, carrying an armful of clothing, a small canister of something, and a glass of water. "Here." He handed her the glass first, watching as she gripped it in both hands and gulped down the water like a little kid. When she finished he sat the glass on the table next to the clothes he had brought and opened the canister of muscle salve. "Ok, this is something Beiste suggested we use when we're sore after football. I can't promise it will make your bruises feel better, but it can't hurt. And if nothing else, you get a nice free massage out of the deal." He forced a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. She didn't smile, but she looked up at him and he saw that she was no longer actively crying. _

"_You trust me, right?" Puck asked, hoping she would answer positively. She didn't answer verbally, but she nodded her head timidly. "Ok, just remember that." He reached toward her and tenderly grasped the hem of her shirt on either side. She looked at him with wide eyes as he tugged the shirt upward. "Trust me, remember." She swallowed and lifted her arms over her head. He stood as he pulled the shirt off her. He turned to drop the sweater on the coffee table and pick up the cream. When he turned back, he saw something he had missed the first time, probably because of the position of her arms. On the front of her right shoulder was a dark, oddly shaped bruise that he could tell, based on the coloring, was older than the one on her back. There was a large red area around the bruise that looked raw, like maybe some of the skin had peeled off. _

_Seeing that he was staring, Rachel offered an explanation. "Coffee cup." The words were so quiet he could barely hear them. _

"_Mother fu-," he caught himself, knowing Rachel would not appreciate a profane outburst. If anything, it would scare her or make her more upset. "Was there … Was there coffee in it?" _

"_It was my fault," she whispered. "I made it wrong." Puck's jaw dropped as he stared at her. This was not the Rachel Berry that he knew. What had that asshole done to her, besides the obvious?_

"_Look at me," he cupped her chin and guided her eyes to his. "That," he nodded toward her shoulder, "could never be your fault. Never." He held her hands and rubbed small circles over her knuckles with his thumbs. "Now, lay down on your stomach for me, k?" she nodded and he held her arm lightly, guiding her down onto the couch. Before he took his hand from her arm, he slid it up to where he had grabbed before and confirmed what he already knew. That was no softball bruise; the five small bruises almost fit his fingers exactly. The handprint looked to be from about the same time as the bruises, plural, on her back. Now that she was shirtless and laying on her stomach, he saw two more bruises matching the one he had seen on her lower back, each about six inches higher than the previous one. "Rach, what happened to your back?"_

"_I already told you, I fell on the stairs."_

"_Berry -,"_

"_Really, Noah, I fell on the stairs."_

"_You fell? Or you were pushed?" Her silence told him what her words couldn't. That explained why the bruises on her back seemed to be from about the same time as the one on her arm, they were probably a matched set. "And your face? That one looks new. What happened?" She took in shaky breath and stared at him for a moment, hoping he would let it go if she stalled long enough. But he kept staring at her, expectantly, and she knew it wasn't going to happen._

"_My dads are out of town until Monday, so Jesse said he was going to come stay with me," Puck nodded, that explained why she hadn't been at temple that morning. "Everything was fine until about an hour ago. We had just finished dinner, and Jesse went to get dessert from the freezer, but I had forgotten to pick up his regular ice cream and all I had was soy, which he hates. So, he umm … got upset," Rachel unconsciously lifted her hand to touch the tender skin around her eye. "Then he sent me out to get the kind he likes."_

"_And that's how you ended up here." He meant for it to be a question, but it was really more of a statement, since he didn't even need to see her nodding her head to know he was right. "Well, I'm glad you're here. I mean, I'm not, because none of this should ever have happened in the first place. But I'm glad you're here now, that you trust me and that you didn't wait any longer."She buried her head in the couch cushions to try to hide the tears coming back into her eyes. He clenched his hands a few times before grabbing the canister off the table to rub the cream into the muscles of her back. The only thing keeping him in the house and not out hunting down Jesse St Dickwad was the way Rachel looked at him. There was no way he could leave her when she needed him so much. She flinched when he first ran his hand across the bruise, but she didn't cry out, so he thought that was a good sign, at least. There was no way to do this without touching her, so he was just trying to be gentle. Once he had rubbed the cream into her entire lower back and could feel it warming under his hands, he rested his hands on the back of her bra. "I'm going to unhook your bra, ok? I promise, I won't look at you or touch anything I shouldn't, but this will work a lot better if it's not in the way." She only nodded her consent. He unhooked the bra and pushed it aside, repeating the process on her upper back. Once he had covered her entire back, he ran his hands down her sides and across the top of her skirt to rub in any remaining cream on his hands. He felt her flinch when his fingers grazed her waistband and he saw that her legs were pressed incredibly tightly together. "What was that?"_

"_Hmm?" She answered innocently, not wanting him to ask any more questions._

"_I barely touched your skirt and your legs locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Berry, tell me right now that he didn't do anything to you … _down there_." He tried to study her face, but she turned her head away from him. "Dammit Rachel! Tell me he did not r-r-r," he stuttered over the word, not able to actually complete it. "Shit, just tell me he didn't."_

"_Of course not," she tried to sound indignant, but it wasn't working. She reached behind her to reclasp her bra, but he pushed her hands away and did it for her as she turned to look at him again before sitting up once her bra was fixed. "He's my boyfriend. A boyfriend can't do that."_

"_Here," he handed her the t-shirt he had brought down from his room, a gray one with the words 'Property of McKinley High Football' in red across the front, and sat on the coffee table to face her. "You don't want to put your sweater on with that stuff on your back. This'll be pretty big, probably just as long as most of your skirts, but I brought you some pj pants just in case. You'll have to pull the drawstring as tight as it will go, and they're probably six inches too long, but you'll be comfortable."_

"_I have one of these," she said sadly, fingering the lettering across the front of the shirt. He knew it couldn't have been hers originally, only football players got those shirts. _

"_Yeah, this one won't be quite that big," he chuckled, referring to the size difference between himself and Finn, "but it'll still swallow you." He watched as she slipped the shirt over her head then pulled on his flannel pants, slipping her skirt off over top of them. When she tossed her skirt next to him on the table and it landed on top of her sweater beside his knee, he remembered their previous conversation, or attempted conversation. "Rach, what did you mean when you said 'a boyfriend can't do that?' Did you mean like, he can't because a boyfriend cares about you and could never do something so horrible?" He picked at the drawstring on his own pajama pants, afraid to say what he really needed to say next. "Or did you mean he can't because like, there is no such thing when it comes to boyfriends?" He was waiting, praying, for her to tell him it was the first answer, to gasp and even get offended that he would suggest such a thing. Anything to take away that feeling in his stomach, that feeling that was telling him to get out of the house right now and hunt down that asshole. "Rach?" he finally looked up at her, trying to prompt her to give him some kind of answer. _

"_Well, I mean, that's true right?" Rachel couldn't meet her friend's eyes. She knew he didn't want to hear what she was about to say, and she really didn't want to tell him, but he wasn't leaving her much of an option. "I'm his girlfriend. It's kind of his right, isn't it? I mean, I don't really have a right to tell him no." She had dropped her head and studied her fingernails while she was speaking, but she looked at him once she finished, hoping her answer would be satisfactory. Apparently, it wasn't. His jaw was lax and his hands clutched his knees until his knuckles turned white. She had never seen his eyes that dark before. "Anyway," she continued, hoping to smooth over the situation, "it's just sex." _

_Puck jumped off the table and fell to his knees on the floor in front of Rachel. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself so that the scream ripping in his throat wouldn't tear its way out when he tried to talk to her. He cupped her face in his hands and lifted her head, which kept finding its way staring into her lap, to make eye contact. "Ok, first of all Berry, I know you, and there is no thing as 'just sex' when it comes to you. Secondly, _that_," he grimaced, "is _not_ sex. You don't deserve that. No one does. Sex is sposed to be fuckin' awesome. Sex is, well, sex is what you would have with me." She blushed, but he rushed on quickly, because for once, he wasn't trying to tease her or get a rise out of her with sexual innuendo. "I mean it, because I at least care about you, I mean, we're friends, right?" He watched her and waited for confirmation. She nodded at him with big eyes. "Ok, so yeah, we're friends so I care about you in some way, and, let's face it, I know what I'm doing, so it would be pretty amazing. Point is, that's what you …" he was about to tell her that was what she deserved, but as he watched her broken form in front of him, he realized something. "No, you don't even deserve that." She looked at him, trying to decide if she should be offended or intrigued. "You're special Rach, you deserve someone who will hold you, and kiss you, and well, love you. You don't deserve what he's doing to you, and you don't even deserve sex, you deserve to be made love to. Hell, you deserve Finn."_

_Puck stood as he finished his speech, even he was surprised at the words pouring out of his mouth. He hadn't intended to say all of that, but as the words came out he knew they were true. And yeah, maybe he shouldn't have brought Finn into it without his friend's permission, or even his knowledge, but that part was just as true as the rest of it. Finn loved her more than anything, he would treat her like a princess if he ever got the chance to be with her. And he knew Finn wanted that chance. Finn would do anything to … oh God, Finn. Yeah, Puck was pissed, Rachel was one of his best friends and his hands were itching to get ahold of Jesse, but Finn, he was in love with her. He was going to take this even worse than Puck, if possible. Although, the longer he stood there, watching Rachel cry at his reference to what she was missing out on, the more he started to feel that it would be impossible for even Finn to be any more pissed than he was at that moment. "Be right back," he kissed the top of Rachel's head and rubbed her back before picking up the glass he had brought her and walking toward the kitchen. _

_He had to get out of that room for a minute. He was on the brink of losing it, and he didn't want her to see that. He placed the glass on the kitchen counter as gently as possible, then kept walking out the back door. He walked to the back corner of his yard, putting as much distance between himself and Rachel as possible. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He shook the fence with his hands as he screamed up into the sky. Puck was an asshole. He'd always been an asshole. And he never treated girls right. But dammit, he was completely appalled at what had been happening to Rachel. He had never laid a hand on a girl when it wasn't out of affection or admiration, and although he had a tendency to be persuasive, he knew what "no" meant. Even Quinn, who had probably taken the most persuasion, had never said no. In fact, Rachel was probably the only girl who had ever actually turned him down, and that was that. He respected her, they were friends, and while he was often flirty, he never did anything she didn't want him to. What kind of guy, creep, would even want it that way?_

_Finally calm enough to rejoin Rachel in his living room, Puck made his way back into the kitchen. He grabbed the water glass he had taken her earlier and filled it with orange juice. He reached into the medicine cabinet over the fridge and grabbed one of the over-the-counter sleeping pills his mom kept around for when she switched back and forth between day and night shifts and had a hard time adjusting to the change. As he crushed the chalky pill with the back of a spoon, he wondered for a moment if this made him as bad as Jesse. He pushed the thought away, telling himself that he was doing it for her own good. He knew she would have a hard time sleeping tonight, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to convince her to stay if she had too much time to think about it. There was no way he was letting her walk out that door when there was any chance she would go back to her house, where there was no one except maybe Jesse. _

"_Here," he handed her the glass of tainted orange juice when he made his way back into the living room. She looked up at him through watery eyes and took the glass. _

"_I'm so sorry," he looked at her quizzically as he dropped onto the couch and propped his feet on the table in front of him. "I shouldn't have just come over here and dumped all this on you. I was out of line." He watched with satisfaction as she finished the juice, then took the glass from her and sat it on the end table. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her so that her body was flush against his and her head rested on his shoulder. _

"_You're right. You were out of line. But only because you should have been here after the very first time so that I could put a stop to it right then. I would -," Puck stopped as he heard a light snore coming from his side. He laughed lightly; she must have been really tired when she came over, those pills didn't work that fast. He debated waiting it out on the couch to make sure she was really asleep, but he was impatient and willing to take a chance on her own exhaustion combined with the drugs he had given her. Bracing her back with one arm, he stood and hooked the other arm under her legs, lifting her easily to carry her to his room. Halfway up the stairs to his room, Rachel began to stir and he froze. _

"_Noah? Where are you taking me?"_

"_To my room. To bed," Puck rolled his eyes at the panicked look on her face as she tried to squirm out of his arms and he kept walking. "Don't worry, I don't plan on staying there with you. You just need a place to sleep, and there's no way I'm leaving you on the couch." He had made it to his bedroom and he lowered her gently onto his bed. _

"_I can go home," she muttered, but even as she did her speech was slurred and she could barely keep her eyes open. He resisted the urge to laugh when she snuggled into his pillow and blankets, even while trying to convince him to let her go home._

"_Yeah, ok." He scoffed. He could see she was going to try to fight him on it some more, so he picked up his guitar and gently strummed out the opening chords before quietly singing the words of "Sweet Caroline." She was snoring before the end of the first verse. He closed the door softly and padded down the stairs to slip on a pair of sneakers and grab his keys and cell phone. He figured Jesse would have realized by now that she wasn't coming home and left, but part of him actually hoped that he would still be there. When he came to a stoplight, he texted his mom. He knew he shouldn't text and drive, but he wanted to give her a heads-up, just in case she got off work early or something. He didn't expect her to, but he certainly didn't want her getting the wrong idea if she came home to find Rachel in his bed. _'Ma – rach staying night. Dnt worry, nuthin dirty. Had some problems at home and dads out of town. Takin her to beccas in the mornin'

_When Puck pulled into Rachel's driveway, Jesse's car was noticeably absent. 'Probably for the best,' he thought. As much as he would love to get his hands on him right away, Rachel's house was probably not the best setting. He ran up to her room and straight into her closet. He found a small suitcase on the shelf in the top of the closet and started throwing things in. He grabbed a few skirts and a handful of sweaters. He didn't notice if they matched or not, but it didn't really matter, partly cause Rachel's outfits never seemed to match, and partly cause no one would care what she was wearing where she was about to go. He didn't bother with shoes because she had to have been wearing some when she got to his house. He assumed that underwear and those knee socks she seemed to be so fond of would be in the top drawer of the dresser, and he was right. He filled the remaining space in the suitcase with Rachel Berry's delicates, something he never expected to see, let alone have in his hands. He was headed for the door when something occurred to him and he dropped the suitcase and turned back into the room. He started with his own hiding place, the bottom drawer, but he found only an extensive collection of Broadway hits on DVD. He went through the rest of the drawers quickly but found only regular clothes and other very-Berry items. _'Dammit. Where would that thing be?'_ He looked through her closet quickly, but it was extremely organized and there was no way he was missing what he was looking for. _

'One last shot.'_ He fell to his knees and looked under her bed. _'Bingo.'_ He grabbed the box, a shoebox covered in gold wrapping paper with the word "faithfully" painted in large black letters on the side. He considered bringing the entire box, but there really wasn't room in her suitcase, so he opened it, and the first thing he saw was exactly what he had been looking for; Finn's football t-shirt. He knew she appreciated him letting her wear his, but nothing would compare to Finn's. He took a second to look in the box, feeling a little like a voyeur for spying on his friends' past. Most of the things he didn't even get, like the weird little plastic cups, but some things were totally obvious. The most obvious was the picture just under the shirt. It had the entire glee club from their first year at regionals, but most of them were blurry, with Rachel and Finn standing at the front of the stage as the focus of the photo. They were in the process of turning back toward their teammates, his hand outstretched and waiting to grasp hers. She was looking up at him, her eyes full of adoration, and he was smiling at her, both of them looking like they were the only two people in the world. He wasn't quite sure how Rachel had gotten the picture, it was obviously taken by someone in the audience, but he knew she cherished it, just like every other thing in that box. He also knew that adding that picture and Finn's shirt to the belongings in her suitcase was more than a little manipulative, but he didn't care. He didn't exactly think that Rachel needed to just bounce from Jesse back to Finn; he knew that wouldn't be healthy. But he did want to remind her that she was worth more than that creep and that there was someone out there who knew that. And he knew that whenever Rachel was ready, Finn would still be waiting to prove it to her._

_He was almost out the front door when his phone rang. "Yeah ma?"_

"_Noah! What on earth is going on?" His mother's voice was breathless and he actually felt kind of bad. His text from before probably really freaked her out. _

"_Ok, first, calm down." He paused to climb into his truck and start the ignition as he heard her take a deep breath. "Rachel came over tonight, and she, well, she's kinda covered in bruises." He waited for his mother's hysterical reply. _

"_What! How the hell did that happen Noah? Was she in an accident? What about her fathers?"_

"_Again, calm down." He rolled his eyes as he approached the stop sign at the end of Rachel's street. "No. she wasn't in an accident. It was that … _boyfriend_ of hers." He practically spat the word. "And her dads are out of town, so I guess our place was the only safe place she could think of to go to. She's asleep in my room now – I kinda gave her one of your sleeping pills, I hope that's ok. I didn't want her waking up and trying to go back home alone. I'm taking her to aunt Becca's in the morning. I don't know what else to do. I just know she can't see him again, ever." Rebecca wasn't actually his aunt, but an old friend of his mom's who they had stayed with for a while when his dad first left. She ran a home mostly for battered women where she helped them get back on their feet and become independent again._

"_Well Noah," she seemed to have calmed a bit, she now only seemed pissed rather than frantic, "Rachel isn't exactly a battered woman."_

"_I know, but neither were you when we went there. She needs to get herself back on track. I know she's not married, or even an adult for that matter, but he's really messed her up, ma. He's destroyed her, and not just physically. She has no idea who she is anymore, or what she's worth. She needs some time somewhere that there is no chance of her seeing or talking to him, and she needs some therapy. I know she can get both of those things there. I'm actually on my way home from her house now. I packed her a bag and as soon as she wakes up in the morning, we're gone."_

"_Ok." His mom sounded quite calm. Actually, she was very proud of him for what he was doing for his friend._

"_Ok?"_

"_Yes. You're right. I'll call her fathers tomorrow and let them know what's going on. I can't promise they won't go right up there and get her, they'll undoubtedly be very upset about the whole situation, but I'll try my best to convince them the way you've convinced me. Just promise me something Noah."_

"_Yeah, ma?" He had arrived home a minute before, but remained in his truck to finish the conversation with his mother. He was kind of dreading going back into the house, knowing Rachel was in there, like that._

"_Please take care of her. She's a good girl. She doesn't deserve any of this."_

"_I know ma. And I will." He hung up and climbed out of the truck, closing the door quietly behind him. He left the suitcase in the truck, knowing that Rachel would probably argue with him if she saw it in the morning and he wanted to make it as easy as possible to get her to go with him. He also didn't want her finding what he had snuck in for her until she was at Becca's. He walked quietly up the stairs and to his closed door to check on her. He opened the door slowly and as he stood in his own doorway and watched her sleeping peacefully on his bed, that bruise around her eye glaring back at him, he felt something burning in the back of his throat. Noah Puckerman didn't cry, but if he did, now would be a damn good time._

_**Wild ponies are born to run  
>Don't you know wild ponies<br>Don't belong to no one  
>Baby, run, run, run away<strong>_

Quinn finished the song and dropped her head and her hands, which had been furiously wringing in front of her. She wasn't sobbing, but there were noticeable tears streaming down her face when Mr. Schuester came to put his arm around her shoulders. "Well, Quinn," Puck stopped listening to whatever Schue was saying. Jesse was gone, Mike, Sam, and Finn were still staring at him, and everyone else had turned their attention to Quinn. He nodded subtly to his friends and the four young men slipped out the back door of the room, seemingly unseen by their classmates and teacher. Although Jesse had left almost a full minute before them, they caught up with him quickly, heading toward Rachel's locker. _'Maybe there's some evidence in there he wants to get his hands on,'_ Puck thought. Finn was the first to reach him, almost breaking into a run as soon as he had seen Jesse. He grabbed the smaller man by his collar and lifted him to eye level, slamming him into the lockers behind him.

"So what, you and your Neanderthal friends going to gang up on me now or something?" Finn, unable to form a coherent sentence at the moment, only growled and tightened his grip on Jesse's shirt.

"Teamwork, right?" Mike spoke up when he noticed that Finn was at a loss for words. "Isn't that what you taught us, Mr. Consultant? Find your strength and everyone else rally around that?"

"Yeah," Sam pitched in, "and we're actually two teams, if you think about it. I mean, between glee club and football, we're basically together all the time. It's like we can read each other's minds. So I guess we'll be a _doubly_ good team." Finn might have been able to find the wit in his friends' comments if he could have heard anything over his own blood pounding in his ears.

"And besides, if you find it fair for a big tough guy like yourself to beat up on a sweet, innocent little girl like Rachel, it's only fair that the four of us get to work together to teach you how _fucked up_ that is." Puck was standing only inches from Finn and Jesse. He would let Finn get in the first shot, but he was going to be right there to get his turn next.

Apparently, Puck's words brought Finn back to reality and, still holding Jesse against the lockers with his left hand, he punched Jesse hard in the stomach then let go, leaving the doubled-over young man to fall into a heap on the floor. Still trying to display his so-far only slightly bruised ego, Jesse forced out a laugh as Finn took a step back. "So that's it, huh?"

Finn lunged, but before he could get within striking distance again, Puck was on top of Jesse, his fist flying across Jesse's jaw. He cocked his fist, ready to go again, when a smirk grew on his face and he climbed off Jesse, looking at Finn knowingly. "You know Finn, he took something that should have been yours." Puck threw a glance at Sam and Mike, who moved to hold Jesse against the lockers by his arms as he walked toward Finn.

Finn looked at his friend, not quite knowing what he was referring to, or why he was smiling like that. But the longer he looked at him, the darker Puck's look became, and he thought he understood what Puck was getting at. "No," Finn shook his head violently, "no. She wouldn't give that to him. She wouldn't the first time," he looked at Jesse in disgust, "and she wouldn't have this time. I know her better than that; I know what she wanted, Broadway, a Tony, 25. We talked about that." He kept shaking his head. If he kept saying no, it wouldn't be true.

"You're right Finn," Puck spoke slowly and deliberately. "She wouldn't _give_ it to him. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't _take_ it." Mike and Sam, clearly confused by the conversation, jumped out of the way when they heard a completely new noise escape Finn's throat and saw him lunging in their direction. Finn again lifted Jesse to meet his eyes, this time with his hand wrapped around his throat. He squeezed until he could feel that Jesse's breathing was labored, but still possible.

"The only reason you're going to be leaving this school alive today," he leaned so that his lips were only an inch from Jesse's ear and growled so lowly that even his friends couldn't hear him, "is because there wouldn't be anyone to look after Rachel if Puck and I go to prison."

~.~

"Oh, Mr. Schuester, one more question," Tina waved her hand in the air. It was her turn to try to come up with something to keep their teacher busy.

"Look, Artie, Kurt, girls, you can stop trying to distract me now. I saw Jesse leave, and I saw the guys leave a minute later. I'm not stupid. But I will play dumb if they get caught." The remaining members of the glee club breathed a collective sigh of relief and the guys walked in as if on cue. Sam and Mike were first, looking surprisingly collected and going to sit on either side of their girlfriends, who were now sitting next to one another. Finn and Puck followed, seconds behind, each cradling his right hand against a bag of ice. Everyone in the room followed them with their eyes as they made their way to the back of the room and sat down in silence. "How … how is Jesse?" Mr. Schuester stammered. "Do I need to be prepared for a visit from the police?"

"He walked out," Finn grumbled, obviously not happy about that.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't worry too much about the fuzz, Mr. Schue," Puck added, "cause if he goes to the cops they'll find out _why_ we did what we did, and he doesn't want that. Neither does Rachel," he added quickly, "just so you all know." Quinn and Tina cast another glance at Finn and Puck nursing their swollen knuckles, then shot withering stares at their boyfriends.

"What the hell Sam," Quinn hissed.

"Yeah," Tina added, "did you two just stand there and watch?"

"You don't understand!" Sam defended himself, eyes wide.

"Yeah, they just, they just lost it. They wouldn't _let _us do anything besides hold him," Mike chimed in. "As soon as one of them would move away, one of us would start to do something, but the other one was right there before we had a chance."

"It started off normal, like, they looked pissed, but it looked like a fairly normal fight," Sam lowered his voice and Quinn and Tina leaned in closer to hear him better. "But then Puck started telling Finn how Jesse stole something from Rachel or something, I didn't really get it," Mike shook his head when the girls looked at him, he didn't get it either. "Finn went nuts. I thought he was going to strangle Jesse right then, but he said something I couldn't hear before he punched him right in the nose." Sam was shaking his head at the memory. Finn was a big guy, and it didn't surprise him that he could do so much damage, but he had never seen Finn act like that before.

"Yeah," Mike added, "then Puck said something about making him cry the way Rachel cried, and next thing I knew, Finn was crying."

Sam interrupted quickly, almost as if defending his friend's honor. "But it wasn't like, sad crying. He just looked really really pissed. And then him and Puck were all over Jesse, and like Mike said, the only thing we could do was hold him when one of them moved to let the other get in a shot."

"It looked kind of familiar," Mike spoke up, looking sheepishly at Quinn, "only this time Finn and Puck were on the same side." Quinn's face glowed but she didn't say anything.

"So," Tina inquired, "was Finn telling the truth, did Jesse walk out? I mean, they didn't like, do any permanent damage did they?" She noticed the looks the others were giving her, and quickly added, "I don't want them getting in any trouble!"

"Yeah babe, he walked out. Barely. And not before they made sure he won't even _think_ about Rachel ever again."

"How long have you known?" Finn growled at Puck, trying to make sure their classmates couldn't hear. Now that Jesse was out of the way, he was able to go back to one of his previous thoughts, '_what does Puck know?'_ He wasn't so sure he shouldn't be pissed at Puck as well.

"Saturday." Puck saw his friend's face visibly relax. Did he really think he would have known about this and done nothing? "I guess she finally decided she'd had too much, so she came over. I talked to her for a while, calmed her down, you know, friend stuff. Then I kind of slipped her a sleeping pill so I could go get some stuff from her house cause I planned to get her out of town first thing yesterday morning."

Finn nodded, he wanted to ask where he took her, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. "So …" Finn hated that he was being so selfish as to think about himself and his own feelings in this situation. "She was upset. And she came to you." Puck couldn't miss the way his friend's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Yeah man. But he was still at her house when she left. And what if he had followed her or something? Your house is in the opposite direction from where she was supposed to be going, she probably wouldn't have even made it there. Besides, I'm sure she wouldn't want to dump all that on your door with your family and everything. Not so much to worry about with me." Puck shrugged. He didn't really know why Rachel had come to him and not Finn, and yeah, he was making all this shit up as he went along, but he didn't want his friend to be hurt by it.

"Yeah, ok," Finn wasn't convinced. But he tried to just be happy that Rachel had gone to a friend who could actually help her. In fact, it sounded like Puck may have done more for her than he would have been able to anyway. He didn't know where he had taken her, but he knew Puck had connections from when his dad had left. Finn probably wouldn't have even thought of something like that. "I just, I want her to know she can still come to me and stuff."

"She knows," Puck clapped his uninjured hand on Finn's shoulder. "We talked about you, ya know." Finn looked at him hopefully. "And she knows you're here for her. But she's, she's not really, _available_ right now, you know? And she probably won't be for a while." Finn nodded. He understood, but that didn't mean he was giving up. Eventually she would be available again, and she would need someone who really loved her and understood her, and he would be that person.

"Can you, just …" he didn't know how to say what he needed to say. Rachel was the only person he could ever really explain his feelings to.

"Yeah man, next time I talk to her, I'll let her know," Puck smiled at Finn, who still looked a little lost. "And when she comes home, you'll be the first to know, I promise."

"Thanks."


	2. You Look Good in my Shirt

**Ok, so this one is teetering on the edge of an 'M' rating, but I didn't want to change the whole story because of it. Consider yourself warned.**

**~.~**

"**You Look Good in my Shirt" – Keith Urban**

_**When you walked up behind me and covered my eyes  
>And whispered in my ear, guess who<br>I rattled off names like I really didn't know  
>But all along I knew it was you<strong>_

Rachel smoothed her denim skirt, unnecessarily, before opening the door of the bar. She had spent her first night back in town having dinner with her fathers and doing the family thing, so she decided to spend her second night unraveling and having some fun. She had promised her dads that she wouldn't stress too much over trying to get everything unpacked all in one day, and this was really the only thing she could think of to keep her mind off all the boxes cluttering her new home. She scanned the room for familiar faces; it had been a while but she still had friends in Lima. She smirked when the first familiar thing she saw was not a face, but rather a mohawked head resting atop broad shoulders and a strong, muscular back, quite noticeable through the faded blue material of his t-shirt. She hadn't exactly come looking for him (although if you asked her why, out of the whopping four bars in Lima, she had chosen the one with the least apparent class, she wouldn't be able to give a sensible answer), but she wasn't surprised, or disappointed, to see him there.

She felt silly tip-toeing across a crowded bar, but she didn't want to draw his attention with the loud 'clack' her wedges would probably make on the concrete floor. She was thankful for those wedges, however, when she stopped just behind him and realized that with her tall shoes and him sitting on a bar stool, their heights were almost even. She quickly reached her small hands around him to cover his eyes and leaned so that her mouth was centimeters from his ear. "Guess who," she breathed in her deepest, sexiest voice. She told herself that, after six years, it's not like she needed to disguise her voice anyway, but somehow, it just came out.

Puck nearly jumped out of his skin when he first felt the warm hands slide over his eyes. But when he heard _that_ voice in his ear, his stomach flipped and warmth spread through his body. It took less than a second of hearing her voice, and feeling her touch, and smelling her (and just how the fuck did she smell exactly the same after six years?) to know that this stranger was none other than Broadway beauty Rachel Berry. But hey, if she wanted to play games, who was he to let her down? "Umm, Lindsey?"

"Hmm-umm."

"Catherine?"

"Nope." Damn, where did she learn that voice? Was that part of her Broadway training or something? He _knew_ he should have gone to see one of her shows.

He started to spout off names a bit faster, not leaving her time to respond in between. "Shannon? Cindy? Quinn?" He smirked as he felt her tense behind him. "Oh! Of course! Santana!" Rachel's hands flew from his eyes to her hips and he could hear her gasp even over the music. He spun to face her, anticipating her response. "Berry! What a surprise!" but even as he said it, he smirked and spread his arms wide to pull her into a hug.

_**And, the longer we talked, the more we laughed  
>And wondered why we didn't last<br>It had been a long time, but later last night  
>Baby, we caught up real fast<strong>_

They had been talking for almost two hours, and Puck was only on his second drink since she arrived. He just didn't seem to need the added entertainment of alcohol when he was with her. "Soo … you're visiting your dads then?" He had been trying for a while to figure out how to ask her how long she was going to be in town without being completely obvious.

"Nope," she shook her head and took a sip from her martini, still her first. "I live here." He had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from spitting beer on her. She giggled and handed him a napkin that she got from the bartender's little caddy across the bar.

"I'm sorry, come again?" He wiped his hands and face with the napkin, looking to make sure he hadn't like, drooled all down the front of his shirt or something.

"I just bought a house here, about five blocks up from the high school. Well, I actually bought the house a couple months ago, but I just got into town myself yesterday."

"So, you're living back in Lima?" He was almost afraid to ask, because although she'd said it once, he just knew she was going to tell him that he was mistaken, that wasn't what she meant at all. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Come on Puckerman, the lack of hair on 70% of your head let your brain seep out or something?" He got chills as she ran her hand over his mohawk, "Isn't that what I just said?"

Regaining his composure, Puck smirked at her and narrowed his eyes, "No need to get smart now missy. I know where you live." Rachel rolled her eyes as she drained the rest of her drink. Keeping her knees together for modesty, she shifted her feet from the bottom rung of her own barstool to the top rung of his.

"What's with the Mohawk anyway? I mean really, I'd have thought you'd outgrown that thing by now," her voice was serious, but her eyes twinkled as she rested her elbow on her knee and leaned forward. Encouraged by her forward attitude and her sudden change in posture (she was totally getting closer to him and he could see right down her shirt), he dropped his hand to her knee. He hadn't really paid any attention to her outfit before, but as he took it in now, he had to admit, he liked what he saw. Instead of her normal school-girl skirt and knee socks or flowy sundress, she was wearing a short denim skirt with a solid purple fitted, v-neck t-shirt and tall wedges with brown leather straps that made her legs look 10 feet long when combined with that skirt. He almost laughed when he realized that Rachel Berry would never fail to dress for the occasion, even when the "occasion" was just a small-town bar with a slightly country/western flavor.

"You told me once," he leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, "that you thought it was sexy." Her cheeks tinged pink at the memory. He was right; she did find it sexy. Puck saw her blush, but she didn't pull away, so he decided to push it a little bit farther. He shifted his hand so that his palm now rested on the outside of her knee and his fingers brushed across the sensitive skin behind her knee. There were two ways that this could play out, and he would know from her reaction what his next step should be. Puck was the only person who knew this (or he used to be, he had no idea how many other people knew now), but the back of her knee was kind of Rachel's "tell." Most of the time, so much as reaching for the hyper-sensitive skin would send her into a fit of giggles and have her screaming and slapping his hand away. But the other times, the times when she was turned on, he could run his fingertips over the area and she would practically melt in his hands. He strummed his fingers over the back of her leg, almost mimicking the motion he would use to strum his guitar. He watched, a self-satisfied grin spreading over his face, as her spine straightened and goosebumps popped up over her arms.

Without moving her feet from his barstool, she turned her upper body toward the bar and pretended to try to get the bartender's attention. Rachel was annoyed. Not with him, but with herself. She had not come here looking for Noah, and she certainly hadn't come looking to hook up with him (at least, that's what she kept telling herself), but no matter what her mind said or did, her body was betraying her. That had always been a problem with him. Leaning on the bar (and away from him) she set her jaw and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes," she admitted, "that hairstyle does hold a certain … charm … but I wouldn't think you would put so much stock in my opinion. You know, since you broke up with me and all." She had to choke back a gasp when his hand fell away from her knee. Damn her body and her stupid, stupid hormones. That had to be it, her hormones. She wasn't able to contain her shock quite as well when he grabbed the seat of her stool and spun her to face him.

"Excuse me?" Now he looked annoyed. "Look Berry, you might be some big shot New Yorker now, but that doesn't mean you get to rewrite history." He rolled his eyes at the look of confusion on her face. "You know damn well I didn't break up with you. _You_ broke up with _me._" He pointed first at her, then at his own chest for emphasis.

"First of all, no need to insult me. Secondly, I most certainly did not break up with you. You broke up with me because I was going to New York." Her arms were crossed over her chest, and even though she was being totally snotty right now, he couldn't help but notice the way the movement pushed her breasts up so that her v-neck top looked almost strained.

"I did not! You said -," Puck stopped mid-sentence. The look on her face, which told him she was finished playing games, and his sudden memory of the last time they were together made him realize that she was right. She hadn't broken up with him. But he was also right; he didn't break up with her. She had just left, and he had let her go, neither of them really addressing what would come next because it was too painful. And then, because he didn't want to actually hear her tell him she was breaking up with him, he didn't call her. And she didn't call him, probably for the same reason, he decided as he studied her. He smiled and leaned toward her, returning his right hand to its previous position on her knee, "You know what this means, don't you?"

Rachel could only shake her head. She didn't trust her voice once his hand was back on her leg, touching her in that way he _knew_ drove her crazy. She had been doing so well there for a couple minutes. She had managed to be annoyed with him, thinking about how he had broken up with her all those years before, but now it seemed that her resolve was weakening again. "We never broke up, Berry." Her eyes widened and she shook her head furiously. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Was he right? She thought back to the days before she left Lima. _'Oh my God! He is right!'_

"So … what does that mean?" She slipped back into that deep, sexy voice she had used when she first arrived. Nothing had really changed, but somehow, in her mind, everything had changed. She wasn't the type of girl who went to a bar and hooked up with an old friend, an ex-boyfriend, after not seeing him for years. But what was wrong with going to a bar and leaving with your boyfriend, of almost seven years, apparently?

"Well," Puck leaned closer to her, bringing his mouth only an inch from her ear, "first it means that I need to get you out of here, cause that guy down there has been checking you out since you sat down." Rachel turned slightly to look down the bar, and, sure enough, there was an attractive blonde gentleman smiling at her. Puck slid his hand up her leg and brushed the hem of her skirt, recapturing her attention. "And as your _boyfriend,_" he leaned even closer so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered the word 'boyfriend,' "I am not ok with that."

Reaching blindly for her purse hanging on one of the hooks under the bar, Rachel slid off her stool and stared at him. "Coffee?"

"Nightcap," he corrected, and she nodded, already walking toward the door. "Your place or mine?" he quickly caught up with her after throwing some money on the bar.

"My place is full of boxes," they stood in the warm night air and she looked up at him expectantly, longingly.

"Right. Mine it is. You drive, I rode here with a friend," Rachel was already digging through her purse for her keys before he could finish his thought. "Besides, you only had one drink over," he looked at his watch, "more than two hours. I had a few before you got here." She stopped walking when she reached her car and turned to look at him.

"Noah?"

"Hmm?" He had butterflies in his stomach. It was weird.

"You can stop convincing me now," she grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and pulled him down so that her lips brushed against his, "you got me." She pressed her lips hard against his and, because he didn't know what else to do, he splayed one hand across her back and tangled the other in her hair as he returned the kiss. He almost fell over when she pulled away from him; he didn't realize he had been leaning into her so much. "Now get in the car." Shocked, but pleased, at her forward attitude, he nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of her small car.

_**And maybe it's a little too early  
>To know if this is gonna work<br>All I know is you're sure looking  
>Good in my shirt<br>That's right  
>You look good in my shirt<strong>_

Rachel stretched and wiped the sleep out of her eyes, squinting against the sun shining through the window. _'First order of business: put up blinds,'_ she told herself. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized that she was not in her own new bedroom, and she was not alone. As she slid up to a sitting position with her back propped against the headboard, she took in the tanned body next to her and the previous night came rushing back. She hadn't even been drunk, sure she was still a lightweight, but one drink at the bar and even less at his house would not push her over the edge, and yet somehow she felt confused and almost disoriented. He tended to have that effect on her. Any questions about why she was in an unfamiliar bed, wearing a vintage Indianapolis Colts t-shirt, were erased as her brain was flooded with memories of him touching her, kissing her.

As gently as possible, trying not to wake the beautiful man sleeping next to her, she slid out from under his arm, the one that felt so good lying across her hips, and out of the bed. She dropped a feather-soft kiss to his temple before walking around the bed to slip out of the room, hopefully unnoticed. She didn't want to make this any more uncomfortable for him than necessary. When she had circled around the foot of the bed and headed back toward the head of it, only steps from the door, she felt a strong hand circle her wrist. "Where d'ya think you're going?"

She sighed, so much for getting out without disturbing him. "Well, to start with, I was going to get what's left of my clothes. Although, I'm pretty sure my shirt is unsalvageable. I'll send yours back to you right away." She squeaked as he yanked her back toward the bed and she landed with a 'thump' right in front of where his legs were bent up at his hips.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, no. You're not leaving this room."

"Look, Noah, I appreciate the gesture," Rachel began with a small sigh. She wished she could believe that he really did want her to stay. "But I know you. We have a past, we're friends, I guess, so you don't want to hurt my feelings. But I know that you don't want your one-night-stands lingering around your house. So, I'm going to go get my clothes from somewhere on your living room floor," he moaned a little at the memory of just _why_ her clothes were on his living room floor, "and get out of here. I know you don't want me hanging around, so I'm making this easy for you."

"The fuck I don't," keeping his grip on her wrist with his right hand, Puck propped himself up on his right elbow as he snaked his left arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to him. "And you're not a one-night-stand." He pulled her arm toward him and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I thought we settled this last night. You're my girlfriend, remember?"

"Noah," Rachel dropped her eyes to her lap and let out a deep breath. She really did appreciate what he was doing, but she didn't want him to continue putting on this act. She should have known before she ever left that bar with him how much this would hurt, this getting to be with him then leaving again, but now that it was too late to do anything about that, she just needed to get out as quickly as possible before it got any worse.

"No Rachel, don't 'Noah' me. It's been six years since the last time I watched you walk away from me, and I've regretted it every day since. Not happening again." Before she knew what was happening, Puck pushed himself up and crashed his lips onto hers, tangling his hands into her hair and pulling her back down onto the bed with him. "If you _want_ to go," he panted, pulling away from her and pushing her hair behind her ear, "I won't stop you. But don't for one second think you're doing it cause of me. Cause, I swear to you, I don't want you anywhere but right here." In spite of herself, Rachel curled her legs onto the bed so that she was lying almost fully on top of him.

"I don't want to go," she breathed out, her breath still heavy from his kisses, shaking her head so that her nose brushed across his.

"Good." He kissed her hard on the lips again and used his weight to roll them so that she was right back where she had started, on the left side of his bed, and he was hovering over her. He pulled back when it was necessary for both of them to get more oxygen, and he stared at her face as her chest heaved beneath him. When his lungs stopped burning, instead of returning his mouth to her own, he attached it to the vein he could see pulsing slightly in her neck. He sucked on the skin until he could feel her squirming under him. He smirked up at her, staring at her through his eyelashes, as his hands wrapped around her thighs and he moved his head to join them.

Rachel screwed her eyes shut tightly. She tried to figure out just how she had gotten here. Yeah, she knew the logistics, but that still didn't really explain _how_ she had found herself back in Noah Puckerman's bed. It had been nearly six years since the last time she had seen him, and as far as she had believed all that time, they were over. But now, here they were. Not that she was complaining, because as his large hands pushed his shirt up her hips and spread her legs just a little farther apart and his hot breath hit her equally hot core, she was sure she was just going to melt into the mattress. And when his hot breath was replaced by his even hotter tongue, she really couldn't help the loud, low moan that escaped her throat.

Puck was just waiting for the moment he would _really_ wake up. Because really, there was no way that he was on his knees in his own bed, his lips wrapped around Rachel's most sensitive parts while her heels dug into his shoulder blades and her hands tangled into his hair as she cried his name. And really, there was no way that she had just shown up at _his_ bar the night before, only for them to discover that they had never actually broken up six years ago, making it perfectly ok for them to be here, doing this. But her nails dug into his scalp and he tasted her all over his tongue, and he decided just maybe it was real. Suddenly overwhelmed by the complete reality of the situation, Puck pulled himself away from her just a little, resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh and gulping in deep breaths to try to regain his composure.

"Is everything ok Noah? I mean, well, I … you don't have to-," he looked up at her and her brown eyes almost looked fearful. He couldn't help but chuckle a little at her completely unwarranted fear. It was just like Rachel to worry about something like him not wanting to have his face buried in her. As if that were ever possible. He turned his head to kiss the inside of her thigh softly before speaking again.

"Everything's fine baby. In fact, it's perfect. I just … somehow I forgot how incredible you taste." He started to lower his head again to prove it to her, but he was stopped by her hands on his cheeks. Puck's words had made Rachel's stomach flip. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason, that was the sexiest, and sweetest, most romantic, thing she thought she'd ever heard. She sat upright and pulled him up to meet her. She crossed her legs in front of her, and when he realized that she was temporarily (he hoped) blocking his access, he sat in front of her and stretched his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles behind her so that he enclosed her in a little ring. Rachel leaned forward and met Puck's lips with her own, catching him slightly off guard. Before he had time to really reciprocate, she had pulled away again.

"Noah, if you really mean everything you've said this morning-,"

"I do Rachel," he cut her off. "I meant every word." She lifted her hand to place one finger over his mouth and silence him.

"If you mean everything you've said this morning, I'm on board for giving us another try." Her heart swelled at the sight of the smile on his face, "But you have to know, we have issues, real issues, that we need to work through."

He nodded. At this point, he was willing to agree with almost anything she said. He would do anything to keep her saying things like _'on board for giving us another try.'_

"Starting with how, almost six years ago, I left for New York, and neither one of us," she wanted to make sure she knew she wasn't placing all the blame on him, "handled the situation appropriately."__

_**Well now I'm not saying that we solved overnight  
>Every way that we went wrong<br>Oh, but what I'm seeing I'd sure love seeing  
>Every morning from now on<strong>_

"You're right Rach, that was a huge mistake," he pulled her forward by her hips so that her knees rested on top of his thighs. "But I was stupid, and immature then, and I didn't know how to handle-,"

"Noah, please don't blame-," Rachel stopped abruptly when Puck covered her mouth with his fingertips.

"My turn." She smiled slightly and nodded at him. She hadn't really meant to interrupt him, but she wanted him to know she didn't blame him for everything that went wrong. "Now, I didn't know how to handle you going to New York, mostly because I was scared, so I just didn't handle it at all. I guess the upside to that is when you showed up last night, you were, technically, still my girlfriend," he smiled at her a little mischievously and she blushed, "but it was still not the right way to do things. But babe, I don't think it's a coincidence that on your second night back in Lima, when you wanted to unwind and forget about all the crap you have to do at home, you showed up at my bar. You could have gone to Kurt's, or Mercedes's, or even that snooty new martini bar, but you showed up at my bar. And it's not a coincidence that this just happened to be Finn's Saturday night for the month to have to stay over at the station."

"Noah, Finn doesn't matter here. You know that the minute we got together senior year that was completely done. That hasn't changed." He laughed at her a little. It really was cute, the way she tried to reassure him. He knew she was done with Finn. The former couple had remained friends throughout Puck and Rachel's relationship, but he never once worried about losing her to him. He didn't doubt that was still true. Besides, even though neither she nor Finn knew that he knew, he was aware of the little trip that Finn and his girlfriend, Chelsea, had taken the previous summer to see Rachel's show in New York. And with Rachel and Kurt being so close, there was no way that Rachel didn't know Finn and Chelsea were still together, strong as ever.

"I know, you little worrier," he leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "But Finn's my roommate. My point was, he had to be at the fire station all night, so he wasn't home."

"You have a roommate!" Rachel slapped him across his bare chest, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of his skin under her hand. "What if … oh God, what if …"

"Babe, I knew he wouldn't be here. Trust me. I don't share, remember?" He ran his hands up and down her back until she seemed to relax. "Anyway, it's also no coincidence that you did the four-year degree thing in three years, badass by the way, then landed not one, but two roles on Broadway within the next three years," Puck was talking with increasing speed and refusing to make eye contact with Rachel, so he didn't notice the way her jaw had dropped and her hands twisted in her lap. "And then, it didn't just happen that you won a Tony for that second role at the ripe old age of 23."

"You knew all that?" The question almost came out as a whisper, because she didn't want him to hear the hitch in her voice.

"Course I did babe," he ran a hand lightly down her hair then cupped her cheek. "The college stuff I kept up with through friends, mostly Finn via Kurt. But the Broadway stuff, you're famous now babe," he winked at her and she blushed. "So, this totally doesn't make me a stalker or anything, but I googled you occasionally. And I may have watched the Tonys last year." Rachel laughed a little, she had forgotten, or made herself forget, how cute he was when he was nervous. "I just wanted to know that you were ok. I had no doubt you would do what you set out to do, and I just wanted to keep up with you a little bit." She leaned forward abruptly, kissing him soundly on the lips. His hands slid down her back and came to rest at the top of her hips, not even trying to wander southward. He was perfectly content just to be there with her, kissing her and touching her, and for the moment he didn't feel the need to push it any farther. For the moment. "Point is," he continued, resting his forehead against hers, "I know you, Rachel Berry. You would not be here, not in this room and not in Lima, if all that hadn't happened. But it did, and here you are. And that's not an accident."

_**And maybe it's a little too early  
>To know if this is gonna work<br>All I know is you're sure looking  
>Good in my shirt<strong>_

"You cryin babe?" Puck worried a little when he saw the way her eyes glistened. There were many things he had remembered over the last six years (he proved that last night), but her tears were a bit confusing to him. She was always a good actress, but her time in New York had helped her hone her craft, and some of her facial expressions had changed. He couldn't tell if these tears were happy or sad, scared or angry.

"No," she sniffed. Even as she denied it, she tilted her head back to try to keep the tears from spilling over. She didn't want to be crying. She thought she had grown up, grown past her silly emotional outbursts. She wasn't a little high school kid anymore. She was a woman and she should be able to control herself better than this. It was just, everything he had said, everything he had done over the past six years. He thought about her, just as much as she thought about him. He didn't just think about her, he kept track of her. He knew what she had done, where her life had taken her. He knew she accomplished her goals, made her dreams come true, all except one. He knew all that because he _cared _(although maybe he didn't know about that one dream that didn't come true, you know, since he _was_ the dream). He always had, and apparently, he still did. She lowered her head to look at him, trying her best to return his trademark smirk. "You love me."

She said the words as an accusation, as if it was something she expected him to deny or be ashamed of. He only laughed. "No shit, Berry." He laughed a bit harder at the look of shock on her face. "What, you want me to deny it? Nope. Don't play those games. I loved you six years ago, hell, I probably loved you eight years ago, I just didn't realize it, and I love you now. I tried not to. Dammit, I tried real fuckin hard not to, and sometimes I even believed that I didn't. But you walked in last night, and you touched me, and I heard your voice, and the second I saw those eyes," he brushed her bangs off her forehead, "I knew I was fucked. Figuratively, and hopefully, literally." Rachel laughed and he brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip before leaning in to replace his thumb with his own lips. "So now, I guess the only question is," he spoke only millimeters from her mouth, "d'you love me?"

Rachel pulled back from him a little and chewed her bottom lip. Did she love him? Did she love this man who had saved her so many times in high school? The man who she had given her virginity to with only a tiny shred of hesitance? The man who encouraged her to go for every one of her dreams and pushed her to achieve them? The same man who cut her out of his life when she went after those dreams? _'That's not fair,'_ she reminded herself, _'the phone works both ways. You could have easily contacted him, but you didn't.'_ She studied his gorgeous hazel eyes, the eyes that were patiently staring back at her, waiting to hear her answer. "God Noah, of course I love you, I-,"

Rachel was cut off when Puck's lips crashed onto hers and he tackled her back onto the bed. She ran her hands over his scalp as his tongue explored her mouth. _'Oh yeah, very sexy haircut.'_ She loved the way the closely shaven sides felt sliding under her hands, and she couldn't resist latching on to the longer hairs of his hawk when he did something particularly pleasing. He didn't seem to mind either, judging by the moans that escaped his throat every time she tugged a little. "Fuck yeah," he panted, pulling away to take a few deep breaths. She leaned up and nipped at his bottom lip, distracting him as she hooked her fingers into the waist band of his pajama pants and tugged them down over his hips. When he got the hint and used his own hands to shuck the pants off completely, she began to tug the t-shirt up and over her body. "Don't," he grabbed her hands, stilling the motion, as she looked up at him quizzically. "You look good in my shirt." She didn't get to respond because his mouth was on her neck and his hands were snaking under the shirt and grazing her breasts.

_**And maybe it's a little too early  
>To know if this is gonna work<br>All I know is you're sure looking  
>Good in my shirt<strong>_

"So, just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I hadn't been there last night?" Puck looked down at the beauty – his new, or old, he wasn't really sure which – girlfriend, running her fingers over his chest. He couldn't stop the smile that spread over his features when she looked back up at him and their eyes met.

"Well …" Rachel's voice trailed off and she tapped her lips with her forefinger thoughtfully. Finally, she shrugged, "I guess I'd just be in blondie's bed right now instead of yours." She grinned up at him mischievously.

"Blondie …?" He tried to figure out who she was referring to, and he had to push her off his chest in order to double over in laughter once he finally did. Rachel shrieked and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him as she waited for an explanation. When he caught his breath and was able to stop laughing long enough to speak, Puck tried to explain his outburst. "Babe, he … wow, um ..." he took one more deep breath and cleared his throat, "Rach, that guy's gayer than Kurt."

"What are you talking about Noah? I don't understand. You said he'd been checking me out, and I looked, and he was smiling at me!" Rachel looked absolutely mortified.

Puck leaned forward and brushed his hand along her cheek as he captured her lips in his. "I really do love you babe." He smiled and she tried to look annoyed, which was becoming increasingly difficult. "But that guy was definitely not checking you out. If anything, he was checking me out, wouldn't be the first time," he scoffed, "and if he was smiling at you, it was because he recognized you from one of your shows. What, you wish he was checking you out?" It probably should have bothered him that she seemed so upset about not being checked out by some other guy at the bar, but she was Rachel. It was really hard for him to be upset with her.

"Well, no, not really," she spoke softly, a little ashamed of herself for her reaction. "But it just felt nice to be wanted," Puck nodded. He should have known, she had always been irrationally insecure about her beauty. He never really understood that. "I mean, the way you got so, I don't know … _possessive_ over me. It felt good. Kind of reminded me of what we had." He choked a little bit as he realized what she meant. His little ruse hadn't made her feel wanted by some guy who proceeded to hit on Puck every time he saw him since that one time they met on the stranger's failed date with Blaine, it made her feel wanted by him.

"Let me explain something to you. From the moment you whispered in my ear, totally sexy by the way," he grinned a little at the way she blushed, "in my mind, you were mine. I had you back in front of me, and I didn't plan on letting that change. Why do you even think I made up that stupid story? I wanted to get you out of there and have you all to myself."

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah," he wondered when she would figure out just how freakin' awesome she really was. Cause obviously, if she even had to question what he was saying to her, she had no idea. Oh well, if she didn't know, and she didn't want to listen to him, he'd just have to show her. Again. He rolled so that he was hovering over her, his weight supported on his forearms and his hands on either side of her face.

"Dude! What's with the chick car?" The voice drifted in from the living room and Puck buried his face in the crook of Rachel's neck.

"Shit," he mumbled into the soft skin of her shoulder.

"Is that …?" Rachel's eyes grew as the familiar voice registered in her mind. "Oh God, that's -,"

"Yeah," Puck cut her off, pushing himself off of her and onto his back at her side.

"Seriously," Finn's voice was definitely closer and Rachel started checking herself to make sure that she wasn't exposed as she heard his footsteps just outside the bedroom door. When she saw the doorknob move, she leaned over her side of the bed, hoping against hope that she would see her underwear and maybe even her bra gracing the bedroom floor. Puck's t-shirt was big enough on her that it really covered everything, but she still would feel more comfortable with Finn in the room if she had her underwear on. No such luck.

"Where the hell did that car come from? Oh! Uh, sorry man," Finn stammered as he took in the sight before him. His best friend and roommate sat propped up against the headboard of the bed, glaring at him. Beside him was a petite brunette in what was obviously Puck's shirt who appeared to be looking for something on the floor. "I – I didn't think … I mean, you've never brought a girl home before, and I just, I didn't think. Sorry. Going now." Finn backed toward the door, one hand pulling the doorknob with him and the other raised in surrender. Just before he took his last step out the door, the brunette sat up and turned toward him, a sheepish smile on her face and her cheeks glowing pink.

"Hi Finn," Rachel lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers at her old friend. Puck plucked her hand out of mid-air and kissed the back of it, smiling at her then transforming his expression into a smirk as he turned to face Finn.

"Rach! Oh my God! What are you … I mean, wow, it's so good to see you!" Finn stretched his arms wide and walked quickly toward the bed. Rachel, starting to panic a little, squeezed Puck's hand and hoped he would get the clue. He didn't really need her encouraging, because he was already sitting up straighter, ready to stop his friend before he made it any farther.

"Dude," Puck spoke for the first time since Finn had entered the room, "you're my boy and all, but if you value your junk even a little, you won't take another step toward my bed or my girl." Finn blushed as he took a few steps backward. He eyed Puck, wanting to question him about calling Rachel 'his girl,' but even he could tell it was not a good time.

"Right. Umm, I'll just, you know, long night at the station so I should probably," Finn continued to stammer as he backed out of the room and pointed over his shoulder toward his own room. "Umm, Rach, I'll see you around? I mean, you know, before you head back home?" Rachel knew that by 'home' Finn meant New York, and she couldn't help but giggle when Puck shot her a sideways glance, barely containing his own smirk.

"Don't worry Finn, you'll be seeing plenty of me." She smiled and gave him one final wave as he nodded and shut the door, just before she collapsed onto Puck's lap in a fit of giggles. "Well that wasn't awkward at all," she looked up at him and swiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Maybe, but how was that shit for possessive?" he looked utterly proud of himself as he beamed down at her.

"Mmm, very nicely done, Mr. Puckerman," she placed her hands on his chest for leverage as she pushed herself up to peck him on the lips. "But what was that Finn was saying about you never bringing a girl here before?" She tried to look innocent, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away instantly. She knew that just because he had never brought a hook-up into his and Finn's home didn't mean he didn't have them, but it certainly showed that he hadn't gone back to exactly the way he was before they had ever dated. She didn't expect him to have been celibate during her absence (especially since neither of them would have expected what was happening now), but she was proud of him for at least gaining a bit more control over his sexual urges since before they got together.

"Look Berry," he looked at her sternly, but his eyes danced across her features playfully, "I already told your sexy little ass I love you. Don't push it." To emphasize his point, he slapped her butt lightly just before he kissed her forehead and snuggled down into the bed, dragging her down with him. "Welcome home, Rachel Barbra Berry. I've missed you."

"It's good to be home, Noah Elijah Puckerman. I've missed you too."__

_**And maybe it's a little too early  
>To know if this is gonna work<br>All I know is you're sure looking  
>Good in my shirt<br>You look good in my shirt  
>You look good in my shirt<strong>_


	3. Better Than Me

"**Better Than Me" - Hinder**

_**I think you can do much better than me  
>After all the lies that I made you believe<strong>_

"Jesus Christ, I'm coming, calm down already!" Puck wiped his hands on a dish towel before tossing it onto the counter and making his way toward the door. He was trying to make dinner, _vegan_ dinner, for his too-perfect girlfriend and he really didn't need the interruption. Seriously, who rings a doorbell four times within one minute? Rachel, that's who. "Babe, how many times have I told you? Don't bother with the damn doorbell, just c'mon in." He opened the door and stepped aside to make room for said too-perfect girlfriend to get through the doorway.

"Well excuse me Noah, but it just doesn't seem polite to me to just barge into someone else's house unannounced." Rachel lightly rested one hand her boyfriend's shoulder and tip-toed to peck him on the cheek. Instead of coming into the house, she continued to stand on his front porch, just giving him this, this _look_.

"Ok, for the thousandth time, you're not barging. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for you to barge. Second, this isn't someone else's house. It's my house," she narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "Ok, it's my ma's house, but whatever, you get the point. I live here too. You're always welcome, always." But even after saying this, he was still holding the door and she was still standing there, just looking. He knew that look, it was her 'I'm trying to keep a secret that I think is really good, but I can't lie for shit' look. "Geez woman, would you just get in here already?"

"Of course," she smiled a little wider and stepped through the door, brushing her hand along the top of his waistband as she went. He really believed she had no idea what she was doing to him when she did things like that. "By the way," she threw him a glance back over her shoulder, the look growing, "I got your mail for you on the way in."

"Oh, thanks," he took the mail from her and was about to toss it absently on the hall table when he caught the return address on the top envelope: SUNY, the only New York school to have not rejected him yet. _'Shit. Why does she have to be so damn nosy?'_ Ok, he knew that wasn't fair. She wasn't being nosy, she was trying to be helpful. She knew it never really occurred to him to check his mail, so any time she came over and his mom was at work she grabbed the mail, or the newspaper, and sometimes even took out the trash. Yeah, ok, so she was all kinds of awesome. When he looked back up, she was grinning from ear to ear, and he knew it was all she could do not to start bouncing or clapping or some shit. "You're gonna make me do this now, aren't you?"

"Noah! How can you even ask? And what do you mean 'make you?' Aren't you dying to know? I mean come on, this is your first college letter! My dads recorded me opening mine." Ok, so maybe he hadn't told her about all the rejections he'd already gotten. And he certainly hadn't told her that SUNY was his last chance, and if this one was a rejection then she'd be going to New York alone.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. "Gimme a second." He went to the kitchen to turn everything off. He didn't know shit about vegan food, and he certainly didn't know if it would keep for however long this would take, but it already pretty much looked like shit. Looks like he'd be ordering take-out again. "Ok, let's do this thing." Rachel squealed and thrust the envelope in his face. He took a deep breath before ripping the end off the envelope. He couldn't afford for her to see him shaking. She knelt on the floor in front of him and held her breath as he pulled out the letter and scanned the words on the paper. She let out a long breath and leaned forward to read the letter, upside down, when she saw his face fall.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I know you did your best," she rubbed her hands over his forearms and continued murmuring what she hoped were soothing words. She jumped a little when he crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it violently across the room with a grunt. "Noah, don't do that," she looked at him with concern as she pushed herself up between his knees and onto his lap. "It's ok sweetie. This was just the first one, there will be others, and at least one of them will be a 'yes,' I just know it. In fact, in a couple weeks your biggest problem will be choosing which one of the many schools that accepted you is worthy of having you as one of its students!"

Puck grabbed her hips and moved her off his lap, almost too roughly. "There won't be others, that was it." He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his hands.

"No sweetie," she ran her hand up and down his spine, trying to comfort him, "I know it's discouraging now, but there will be others."

"You just don't get it, do you!" Rachel jumped as his voice spiked and he jumped off the couch, needing to get away from her touch. "That was _it_, Rachel. The last one. All the rest of them rejected me. You're going to New York. I'm not. Understand now?"He looked at her and he could see the first hint of tears glistening in her eyes. He wasn't sure why he was yelling at her. He didn't want to yell at her, it just, happened. He almost thought he was mad at her for believing in him so much. If she hadn't, then he wouldn't have gotten his hopes up like this. Hell, if she hadn't believed in him so freakin' blindly, he wouldn't have even applied to these places, because they probably wouldn't even be together. He kind of spaced out for a few minutes. He didn't even need to listen to know that she was still rattling out sweet, encouraging words, telling him it would all somehow be ok. But then he heard it, not all of it, but enough. She was supposed to be saying all this stuff about how she still had faith in him and it would work out somehow, but in the middle of all that, she said it. He literally saw red when he heard her say, much too calmly in his opinion, 'stay in Ohio too.'

"Wait! What the fuck did you just say?"

He could swear he saw genuine fear in her eyes, and that just made him want to punch something even more than he already did. "I … I said," she stammered, "I can stay in Ohio too. I mean, it wasn't exactly in the plan, but plans change, right?" She stood to approach him carefully.

"Get out."

"What?" Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head to the side.

"I said, get the fuck out. I'm done. _We're_," he motioned between their two bodies, "done."

"Noah, I … I don't understand," her tears were flowing freely now. Her hands came out to clutch at his shirt, to pull him to her, but he lifted a hand between them to keep her at arm's length.

"What's not to understand? I want you out, gone. I'm sick of you pushing," a lie, "trying to get me to do things I never really wanted to do anyway," another lie. "You're selfish," biggest lie yet. "I applied to those stupid schools so you would keep your fantasy going hoping that by the time you realized I wouldn't be going with you, you would be too far gone to change your mind. I never wanted to leave Lima, with you or anyone else." Wow, where did these lies come from? "I only had you come over so I could break up with you in person without the scene I knew you'd cause at school." Yep, still lying.

"Noah, please," she had fallen back onto the couch and the words came out as choked sobs. Without looking at her, he walked into the kitchen to trash the remnants of the dinner he had started, for her. When he was finished, he walked through the now empty living room and up to his bedroom so he could trash it too.

_**And guilt kicks in and I start to see  
>The edge of the bed where your nightgown used to be<br>I told myself I won't miss you  
>But I remember what it feels like beside you<strong>_

Puck woke to a pounding head and an aching neck, sore from being propped on the arm of the couch all night. After Rachel had left, after he had scared her away, he had stormed up to his bedroom, their room for the night, and destroyed it. He couldn't stay in there after that, after knowing that he was supposed to be sharing the bed with her. But now he had no choice. He couldn't go to school in the same clothes he had worn the day before, and everything he owned was in that room. He flinched when he got to the door, not having realized before how much damage he had actually done. Everything from his dresser, mostly pictures of her and of them, was scattered throughout the room. Posters were crumpled and laying on the floor, most of them no longer whole. But his bed, that had taken the brunt of the punishment. The comforter was lying in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed, while the top sheet was on the other side of the room hanging off a lamp. He had somehow managed to, legit, kick a chip off of one of the legs of the bed. As he studied the piece of furniture, trying to figure out just how he did that without breaking his foot, he saw the pink shimmery material peeking out from under the bed. He didn't want to touch it, hell, he didn't want to see it, but he had to get rid of it so he could forget it ever existed.

He bent to retrieve the silky nightgown he had bought just days before. He snatched it off the floor, and before he could stop himself, he ran his fingers over the fabric. She had never even worn the item, but just the feel of it made him think of her. He had been walking through the mall, heading to GameStop to pick up that new game Wheels had been raving about, when he saw it through the window at Victoria's Secret. It was just so … Rachel. It was pink and silky, flowy even, and just the right amount of sexy. That rounded v-like neckline, the salesgirl called it 'sweetheart,' would show just enough of her gorgeous breasts and it was just a little shorter than those teasing schoolgirl skirts she wore every day. Yeah, it was sexy, but not in an over-the-top vixenish way that would freak her out. Like he said, it was just Rachel. Her dads were out of town and he had been excited to give it to her as a gift the night before. The gown, the dinner, it was all for her, just because. Just to show her how much she meant to him. He pretty much fucked that up.

Standing in the middle of his bedroom, holding the nightgown that should be on his bathroom floor as Rachel showered for school, he couldn't begin to understand what he had done, or why. It was supposed to be a good night, their night. Her dads were both out of town from the previous long weekend and unlike most teenagers' parents, they trusted her enough to leave her alone (even though he was pretty sure she told them everything, even most of the stuff about them). His mom was working nights for the next few weeks, but that wouldn't have mattered anyway. She claimed that he was too much for her to handle anymore and she had given up fighting after the whole babygate thing, but he knew that she loved Rachel so much that she probably wouldn't have fought anyway. He was going to surprise her with dinner and then she was going to help him with his homework before curling up on the couch to watch some SVU. When she was falling asleep on his lap, as she always did, he would take her up and give her his present. And yeah, ok, if it happened to result in a little sumthin sumthin for him, he wouldn't complain. But when it was all over, he would get to go to sleep in his bed, with his girl curled up into his body in that silky nightgown. Yeah, he _really_ fucked that up._****_

_**I really miss your hair in my face  
>And the way your innocence tastes<br>And I think you should know this  
>You deserve much better than me<strong>_

He stumbled into school thinking that this was way worse than any hangover he'd ever had. Every step he took brought him closer to her. He expected to see her around every corner, and he was bracing himself for what would happen when he did. His head felt like it was about to explode, and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He was pretty sure his palms were sweating more than Finn's when Mr. Schue had told him that dancing was, in fact, essential to singing the solo at their last competition. He didn't actually see her until he was in the hall headed to his locker. She truly was the great actress she promoted herself to be; at first glance you would never know she was heartbroken. Her clothes were just right, and her hair, well, her hair had always kind of been his downfall. It was long and silky, always cascading down her back and over her shoulders in these perfect waves. It made her look like a princess. All he wanted to do was run his fingers through it, or bury his face in it and smell its sweet, fruity scent. Mercedes approached her, and Rachel turned to talk to her friend, a smile dancing on her lips as Mercedes said something and gestured across the hall at Kurt, who was winking back at the girls. Was it possible that she wasn't heartbroken? That she wasn't feeling everything he was?

No, that wasn't possible, because just as she turned toward him and he ducked behind the nearest door, he saw that the smile was only on her lips. Her eyes showed none of the joy her mouth was portraying. For a minute he wondered at the fact that Kurt and Mercedes, her best friends, didn't seem to notice that her 'happy-Rachel' act was just that. But that didn't last, because deep down he knew that he was the only one who could really see past the many masks of Rachel Berry. Once Kurt and Mercedes had left, heading toward their own class on the other side of campus, he watched the mask fall. She turned back to her locker and just stared. She stared at those pictures of that Barbra chick she was so obsessed with and at that goofy miniature disco ball she had hung in her locker. Then, though he couldn't exactly see where her eyes were looking, he knew she stared at that picture of them, the one that Blaine had tried to take of just her, before he slipped quietly behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and drop his chin on her shoulder just as the shutter snapped. He didn't have to have the photo in front of him to see the surprised smile on her face or the way his eyes focused not on the camera but on her. She closed her locker, just after running the tip of her index finger over where he knew the picture hung. He was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed the way her lip trembled, probably because no one else in the crowded hall was paying any attention to her. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss her until that trembling stopped. Not this time._****_

_**While looking through your old box of notes  
>I found those pictures I took that you were lookin' for<br>If there's one memory I don't wanna lose  
>It's that time at the mall, you and me in the dressing room<br>I told myself I won't miss you  
>But I remember what it feels like beside you<strong>_

Puck wasn't really sure how he had made it through the day. It was as if he had been a zombie, and he barely remembered any of it. His only saving grace was that there was no glee rehearsal. That would have done him in. He groaned when he reached his bedroom. That room really needed to be cleaned up. No time like the present. And it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. He cursed himself when he realized that many of his personal belongings were now destroyed, thanks to his own self-destructive behavior the night before. Looks like he would be throwing some things out.

"Hey ma, squirt." He kissed the back of his mother's head and held out his hand for his little sister to high five him as he looped through the kitchen to grab a trash bag.

"Everything ok Noah?"

"Yeah ma. Just doing some cleaning."

"You mean without me or Rachel having to threaten you with bodily harm?" Puck flinched as if someone had slapped him when his mother uttered his now ex-girlfriend's name. "I'm proud of you." He grunted then ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time back to his room.

After filling the trash bag with all the things he had broken or torn and making his bed, he decided that he might as well actually clean his room while he was at it. It would save him from listening to his mom's crap later, and it might even earn him some brownie points. He tidied up all his Xbox games and controllers and moved on to picking up dirty clothes. (He wasn't like, disgusting or anything, it's not like he left dirty underwear lying around, it was mostly hoodies and stuff that weren't _dirty_ dirty.) Carrying an armful of clothes, Puck walked to the closet to drop them in the hamper. But he couldn't just drop them in, because the lid was closed and there was a box sitting on top of it. That damn box. He had looked through his "Rachel" box, the shoebox full of letters and pictures, before she came over the day before and he must have just left it there instead of putting it back on the shelf where it belonged. He wasn't a pussy. His girl was just really hot and he loved her, ok?

His head screamed at him that it was a horrible idea, but he couldn't stop his hand from lifting the lid off the box. He picked up the box and carried it with him to sit on the bed, his hand shuffling through the letters at the top of the box to get to the pictures underneath. There wasn't anything wrong with the letters, in fact he kind of liked them, especially the ones toward the end where she started getting a little dirty. But right now, he just needed to see her face, to be back in that day.

She had dragged him along with her to the mall to pick out an outfit for her Julliard interview. He hadn't realized that even buying an outfit for an interview was a production for Rachel Berry. She insisted he bring his mom's camera because, apparently, there was like, some law against buying an outfit in the store just because it looks good then. No, she had taken him to at least 10 different stores, where she tried on at least 10 different outfits each. While she pranced in and out of one fitting room after another, he sat just outside and took pictures of her in each outfit doing various poses. Most of them were her serious actress poses, but occasionally she threw in a silly or sexy one, just for him. Her reasoning was that because this was her audition outfit, she needed to make sure it looked good on camera as well in case they decided to take pictures that day. "Noah! The outfit that looks the best in the mirror might translate horribly to film!" He had rolled his eyes at her, but really, he loved being her personal fashion photographer. Besides, by about the seventh store, he convinced her to let him actually come in the fitting rooms with her. He swore it would save time, and it probably would have, if it hadn't been for all the time they lost doing … other things. A few days later when she asked for the memory card so she could look through the photos and decide on an outfit, he told her there must have been something wrong with the card or the camera because none of the pictures had saved. That was a lie, of course, the pictures all came out just fine. He just didn't want to share them. When he had gone home and looked through the pictures, all he saw was his Rachel and their moments. It wasn't fair for anyone else to get to be a part of that. So, he took the card to CVS and printed a few of his favorites before saving all the pictures on a thumb drive that was also hidden in the bottom of the box. He also went to the mall and bought her the outfit that looked the best in the pictures._****_

_**I really miss your hair in my face  
>And the way your innocence tastes<br>And I think you should know this  
>You deserve much better than me<strong>_

If he closed his eyes just right, he could imagine she was still there. He could smell her, which wasn't really a surprise, since her scent was all over everything in his room. But more than that, he could almost taste her. He could taste her breath when he kissed her, he could even taste her skin. And when he fell back onto the bed he could imagine that the darkness around him was caused by her hair forming a curtain around his face. He was actually grateful when he heard his mom calling him downstairs for dinner. He had started to feel a lump forming in his throat, and he wasn't strong enough to pull himself out of his reverie alone. He jumped off the bed and put the box back in the closet, pushing it a little farther back on the shelf than usual._****_

_**The bed I'm laying in is getting colder  
>Wish I never would've said it's over<br>And I can't pretend  
>I won't think about you when I'm older<br>'Cause we never really had our closure  
>This can't be the end<strong>_

Puck had been in bed for over an hour, tossing and turning, trying to find some position that would allow him to sleep. His bed just felt wrong, too big and too cold. It wasn't even as if Rachel slept there every night, not even once every week. But any other time, he could look forward to the next time that she would be sleeping there. Now, there was no next time. There would never be another time that he would share a bed with Rachel, this one or any other. And knowing that made it impossible for him to sleep. He always had a hard time sleeping after they'd had a fight, he always felt so horrible. But this time, every time he moved he expected to feel her there with him. Apparently his brain was punishing him by continuously reminding him of what he could no longer have.

He deserved to be punished. Breaking up with Rachel was the stupidest thing he'd ever done. He didn't even know why he'd done it; he certainly hadn't planned it. The words just … came out, before he could stop them. It was just, when he heard her say that shit about staying in Ohio, he lost it. She was not staying in Ohio. She couldn't, certainly not because of him. And that's when it hit him. She was so much better than him. He kind of already knew, but when she said she would stay in Ohio because his dumb ass couldn't make it into any school in New York, he really knew. (Ok, he wasn't dumb, not at all. He just hadn't tried hard enough the first few years, which made it even worse once he started trying because of Rachel and figured out just how not-dumb he was.) He wouldn't be the one to hold her back, he refused to do that. So, he let her go. Well, he pushed her away. But it was for her own good, and someday she would see that. Someday. Someday when she was this awesome, Tony-award winning actress and he was still a Lima Loser. And if she even remembered him then, she would thank him for dumping her in his living room. But he would always think of her, remember her as his first love, the first person who believed in him and loved him in spite of his many flaws and mistakes. And that small part of his brain that refused to accept what he had done whispered that maybe, when someday came, he wouldn't still be a Lima Loser. Maybe he would be good enough for her by then and he could go find her and prove it to her. Maybe, but not likely._****_

_**I really miss your hair in my face  
>And the way your innocence tastes<br>And I think you should know this  
>You deserve much better than me<strong>_

Glee club was going to be the death of him. It had been three days since he managed to break both his and Rachel's hearts in one fell swoop, and he had pretty much managed to avoid her the entire time. But today was Thursday, and that meant glee. And glee meant having to be in a room with her, and look at her, and listen to her voice, and do all of that without losing his shit. He was pretty sure he couldn't do it. Then Schue had to go and drop that damn bombshell on them. They were ramping up for nationals in a few weeks, which Puck hoped would keep Rachel in the zone enough so that she would be distracted from him. But Schuester had to go and announce that he had picked their set list, and that one of the songs was a duet, between Rachel and Puck. Not Finn, Puck. He couldn't say anything. He had a million things he wanted to say, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. He wanted to protest that it was bad for the team, that he didn't have enough experience to lead them at nationals. Sure, he had done some one-line solos in the middle of songs before, but nothing that major. Finn was much more suited to lead. And more than anything, he wanted to say that he just couldn't sing with her. He couldn't do it to himself and he definitely couldn't do it to her. Because if he had to sing with her, if they had to rehearse together and sing together on that stage, just the two of them, he'd pull some stupid Finn bullshit and try to get her back, and because she was the wonderful person she was, she would do it. And then he'd be right back to being the prick who was holding her back because he wasn't good enough for her.

Luckily, he didn't have to say anything, because Finn did it for him. Well, he didn't do it for him, he did it for Rachel, but whatever. "Umm, Mr. Schue, are you sure that's a good idea?" Finn spoke to their teacher, but he kept his eyes on Rachel. Most of the glee club, the ones that cared even a little about Rachel anyway, knew by now what had gone down between them. Well, they knew Puck had broken up with her, he was pretty sure she didn't give them the details, because Finn hadn't broken his nose yet (which he would have deserved) and Mercedes hadn't backed him into a corner to scream at him for like, an hour (also deserved). "I mean, I just don't know if that song is right for Puck. And he doesn't exactly have experience doing big solos in competitions. All I'm saying is, this is most of our last year, and we really want to win this thing, and I don't know if a Puck and Rachel duet is the way to do that. Sorry buddy," Finn shot him a quick apologetic glance, but it was completely unnecessary. Finn was doing him a favor. He didn't want to sing the duet with Rachel, and he certainly didn't want her to give up her part.

"Look Finnocence," Santana snapped, "just because you still have some _thing _for Berry over there-,"

"I-I don't have a _thing_ …"

"Shut it. Just because you can't get off the Berry Express and you have to be the center of attention, doesn't mean you get all the male solos in here."

"Santana, Rachel and I are friends. That's it. And I wasn't talking about me. I don't need the duet. But what about Sam, he's got a good voice, and he's a much better dancer than me." Nearly everyone laughed. "Or Artie, his voice is really cool, and I bet he'd be really great on that song. I'm just saying, I don't think Puck is a good fit." Finn and Puck both noticed the unshed tears in Rachel's eyes. "You know, for the song, I mean."

"Excuse me Mr. Schuester, I need to go to the restroom. I-I'll be back," Rachel jumped from her seat quickly and almost ran from the room. Kurt nudged Mercedes, who followed her friend.

Puck dropped his head to stare at his feet. He really knew how to screw things up. He felt a hand on his shoulder as Sam leaned forward. "Sorry man. But you know, maybe it's for the best." He saw the compassion in Sam's eyes; he was just trying to be helpful. Santana, on the other hand, wasn't.

"Yeah. She deserves much better than you." At that, Puck stood and moved to leave the room. He didn't want to be there when Rachel returned.

"I know."

_**I really miss your hair in my face  
>And the way your innocence tastes<br>And I think you should know this  
>You deserve much better than me<strong>_

**~.~**

**Ok, I have to say a special thank you to SilverSnikle, because this chapter wouldn't have happened without her. "Wild Ponies" was difficult subject matter, and it made me sad to imagine and write, but this one literally brought me physical pain. For a self-proclaimed Finchel shipper, I had a REALLY hard time writing this Puckleberry break-up. For that reason, I hope you'll forgive me if it's not quite up to par.**


	4. Unapologize

**Unapologize – Carrie Underwood**

_**Last night I was pouring out my heart like a waterfall to you  
>And with one kiss I was a runaway train<br>Flying off the track to you  
>"I Love You" came flooding out<br>Couldn't make it stop  
>Couldn't shut my mouth<strong>_

Puck rocked with Rachel on the swing hanging from the beams of her front porch. The rest of the glee club was in her living room for their not-exactly-third-annual regionals set list selection party. They had tried to have the gathering the first year at Mr. Schue's house, but it went to Hell when everyone got emotional and depressed about the very likely possibility that glee club was about to be disbanded. Then the next year, Schue went on his whole kick about focusing on the underutilized members of the club and made all the decisions for them. This year, Rachel insisted. It was the last year for many of them, including almost all of the original New Directions, and they were going to do this together. So, after hiding every drop of alcohol in the house, Rachel ordered pizza, made popcorn, set out every type of pop she had ever seen, and started playing good hostess to her teammates.

The meeting had started off well enough, with Rachel writing everyone's suggestions on a big whiteboard that they weren't quite sure why she had in the first place. But once they had reached about 15 possible songs, the night started to go downhill. Almost every person in the room was completely married to his or her own song suggestion, or whichever song promised the most exposure. Then the seniors started insisting that they should get the most influence over the set list because they had started the club and it was their last chance to win it all. That in turn had the new members insisting that the older members had already had their chance, and since they didn't win it all their way the past two years, it was time to try something new. Finally, Rachel had had enough. She was tired of listening to her friends, or the closest thing to it, screaming at each other in her own living room. It came as no surprise that her best intentions had once again made a mess of things. She slipped out the door unnoticed in the middle of one of Santana's rants at Lisa, a freshman who had made the mistake of saying Santana's voice was too "raspy" for a particular solo.

Rachel had her head laid back against the back of the swing with her eyes closed when she felt the rhythm of her motion being disturbed. Without lifting her head, she opened one eye to see Puck rubbing his own eyes in frustration beside her. "This sucks."

"Mmm," was Rachel's only response.

"I mean, no offense, I know you did your best, and you're a pretty kick-ass hostess. You realize you're gonna have pizza for weeks, right? But those guys in there are douches, all of 'em."

"Noah …" she started to chide him for being so negative toward their teammates, but honestly, she was just too tired. They had taken it all out of her.

"C'mon Berry, it's true. And I don't know why we're even having this argument," he gestured toward the house to let her know he wasn't referring to the two of them. "Everybody knows the key to winning this thing is you. If there weren't all these requirements about what we have to sing, I would say screw it, you just stand there and sing a bunch of solos while the rest of us sway and hum in the background." She didn't move, but he couldn't miss the smile that ghosted over her features before she put her serious face back on.

"I don't want that," she shrugged, her eyes still closed. "This is glee _club_. It's not all about me." Puck couldn't help but laugh, causing her to open her eyes and focus on him, confused. "What's so funny?"

"Just never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, that's all," he nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "You're barely the same girl who made me want to light myself on fire sophomore year." She shrugged again.

"I'm the same girl. Just a different, better version of her," Rachel looked at him seriously, holding his eyes with her own. "I still have my dreams, I know exactly what I want out of my life and I intend to make it happen. I've just learned some things over the past couple years."

"Like what?" He absent-mindedly dropped one arm over the back of the swing so he could move a little closer to her. He honestly wasn't trying anything, he just felt like this was an intimate conversation, and it felt natural to be close.

"Well …" she paused, staring up at the ceiling of the porch thoughtfully, "first of all, just because I don't necessarily need people to make my dreams come true, doesn't mean I can't have friends. Being independent doesn't have to mean being lonely. Also, it's easier to make those friends when I'm not so into myself all the time, both personally and professionally. Just because Mercedes's song choice or Santana's voice may not be particularly my style, that doesn't mean they are any less worthy of being heard." Neither of them were sure when his hand dropped to rub circles on her shoulder. "Oh, and this one was the hardest and most painful, just because you care about someone and they care about you, does not mean you should be in a romantic relationship. Sometimes the person you think you are meant to be with is not the person you should be with at all."

Neither of them knew how it happened. One second she was pouring out her heart, staring at him with those big brown eyes while his fingers traced over her shoulder reassuringly. The next, that same hand was gripping her shoulder and pulling her closer to him while the other hand reached up to cup her cheek. He didn't have to pull hard, because she was already leaning into him, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against his. For a few seconds neither of them did anything; they just sat that way, bodies and lips pressed together. But suddenly, almost abruptly, their lips and tongues were moving, dancing almost, struggling quietly for dominance. His hand moved from her cheek to grip her hair at the base of her neck and one of her hands clutched at his shirt while the other moved around his waist to sneak under his shirt and tickle at the skin on the small of his back.

When they finally broke apart, both desperately needing air, she felt empty. It was like she was missing something she didn't even know she needed until just then. She had kissed Noah before, a couple times, but it was never like that, never so … desperate, so needed. There had always been something else between them; Finn, Quinn; but this time it was just them. Just Rachel and Noah. "Noah, I … I …" she gulped for air as her eyes flitted over his face, studying his expression, "I love you."

_**I felt like a fool, then I lied and said I was sorry, but  
>I unapologize<br>I meant every word  
>Won't take back the way I feel about you<br>I can't unsay what you heard  
>'Cause you heard me right<br>And I won't try to fight em' back, or hide my feelings for you  
>I unapologize.<strong>_

"So?" Kurt practically squealed.

"So what?" Rachel looked back at him, eyes wide. She continued pacing her bedroom carpet until Mercedes grabbed her.

"So what happened next?" Quinn screamed at her then dropped back into Rachel's desk chair, obviously embarrassed by her outburst. She wasn't supposed to care about Rachel Berry's life. But somewhere along the way, in spite of her best efforts to keep hating Rachel, Quinn had kind of become friends with her. They weren't, like, besties or anything, but after nationals the previous year they had called a truce, which had turned into a decent relationship. Besides, this was juicy stuff!

"I-I apologized."

"Aww, it's ok Rach, Puck likes kissing. And you're pretty." All eyes turned to Brittany. No one should be surprised by anything she said anymore, but her overly simplified assessment of the situation took them all off-guard. Until Brittany spoke, the atmosphere of room had been incredibly tense. Rachel was close to wearing a rut in her carpet, and the others were waiting not-so-patiently as she slowly revealed the details of her and Puck's little meeting on the porch. Unable to stop herself, Quinn giggled at Brittany's statement. Before they knew it, everyone in the room was laughing hysterically, except Rachel, who only groaned. She was starting to regret inviting Kurt, Mercedes, Quinn, Brittany, Santana, and Tina to stay the night after their meeting. She had thought it would be a good opportunity to get in some "girl time" before they graduated and went their separate ways. Right now, thanks to their scrutiny, all she wanted was some alone time.

"Ok, ok, let's calm down or we're never going to get the dirty from miss diva over here." Mercedes grabbed Rachel's shoulders again and brought them eye-to-eye. "Ok, so you're talking. Then you kiss. He kissed you, or you kissed him?"

"I don't know," Rachel threw her arms into the air. "I honestly don't know who started it, it just happened." Santana rolled her eyes, but Quinn swatted at her. Granted, Santana had been a lot nicer lately, but she still had a hard time understanding some things, like the give and take of true romance. When Santana wanted something, she just went after it. While Rachel and Puck were both headstrong and determined, neither had that kind of attitude when it came to relationships. They had both been hurt too much in the past and they took that stuff slowly and seriously. Then there was the fact that they were both head over ass for each other but too stubborn to admit it to each other. It really shouldn't have been surprising that she couldn't pinpoint who initiated the kiss.

"Ok, fine," Mercedes huffed, "but after that, you told him you loved him, right?" They all watched as Rachel nodded, chewing her lip. "And then, you apologized?" Rachel nodded again, averting her eyes as Mercedes squinted at her, obviously confused. "But, how? I mean, what exactly did you say?"

"Well," Rachel tried to start pacing again, so Mercedes gripped her wrist tightly. "I said I was sorry, of course. I said that it had just been so long since I'd been kissed, since I'd had that kind of connection, that intimacy with anyone. I said I just got caught up in the moment and said something I didn't mean. I told him that obviously, I don't actually love him."

"You really said, 'Obviously, I don't actually love you?'" It was the first time Tina had spoken since the others left and Kurt and the girls retired to Rachel's room. Rachel stared back at her, wide-eyed, and nodded. "But you do love him!"

"I know!" Rachel whined and Brittany had to jump off the bed to avoid getting hit as Rachel fell face-first across the bed. Brittany eased herself back onto the bed at Rachel's side and rubbed her back.

"So what are you going to do now?" Rachel turned to face Brittany, thinking about her question for a long moment.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I guess I'll just wait and let him make the next move."

"Ok Berry, I've been quiet long enough. And Barbie can smack me all she wants to; I've got something to say." Rachel stared up at Santana. Honestly, Santana wasn't the worst person to hear from in this situation. She knew Puck pretty well. In fact, they were basically the same person. And Rachel had come to accept that while Santana's methods were often harsh and crass, she was always honest and a lot of times she wasn't actively trying to hurt anyone. It just happened to be a byproduct. "Let's think about this for just a minute. First, you're having a nice, supportive, friendly conversation. He must have already been a little out of his mind," she snorted. "But then, you go get him all hot and bothered by kissing him. 'Cause let's face it, it doesn't take a lot with Puckerman. And besides, you're a hot little number, and I happen to know you've got some skills in the lip-lock department." Rachel's face glowed. She had been drunk, and Santana swore never to tell anyone. None of the others seemed to have noticed Santana's most recent statement, though. "Next, you completely blow his mind by telling him you love him. It's amazing he didn't flip his lid right then. But, to top it all off, you go and bruise his super-inflated Puckerman ego by telling him that _obviously_ you don't love him. I think it's safe to say that his next move will be to do absolutely nothing, except maybe avoid you like the plague."

"Oh God!" Rachel shot up quickly so she was sitting on her knees staring desperately at Santana. "I didn't mean it like that! I-I was just trying to think of something, anything to say to take back the 'I love you.' I was afraid of scaring him. I just wanted it to go away!" She buried her face in her hands and shook her head violently from side to side.

"We know Rachel. We all know that," Quinn spoke calmly and surely, as she always did, crossing the room to lay a hand on Rachel's shoulder and glare at Santana. "How _did_ he react? Did he seem scared, annoyed, what?"

"He didn't react, really. I don't have a clue what he was feeling. Almost right in the middle of my word vomit," Mercedes covered her mouth to muffle a snicker, "Finn came out and said they had to leave, something about them having to get up early to help Kurt's dad with something. He just got up and left without saying anything. Kurt, where are you going?" Rachel noticed Kurt heading for the door, and she was suddenly afraid that now she had done something to offend him, although she couldn't think what it could be.

"Snacks. This is going to be a long night. Please tell me you have some real, non-soy crap, ice cream in this house."

_**You know people say a lot of things that they don't really mean.  
>And last night I told a little white lie<br>Hoping you'd forget the scene  
>Where it felt like a movie under that porch light<br>Couldn't help myself when you held me tight  
>I said what I meant, then I lied and said I was sorry<strong>_

"Well well well. Ladies. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the unholy trinity bright and early on a Monday morning?" Quinn, Santana, and Brittany had been waiting outside Puck's locker when he arrived at school. "We didn't go on some crazy four-way date that I have somehow forgotten about did we? 'Cause that would be a crime. But I'd be more than happy to show up for a repeat performance today after school." Puck smirked at the girls, making a show of looking each of them up and down.

"Right, like I'd let you touch me again."

"Trust me, that's something you would remember," Santana spoke at the same time as Quinn.

"I didn't have any dates this weekend. Lord Tubbington was upset so I had to stay home and talk him through it." Brittany spoke simultaneously with the other girls so that Puck almost missed the very random, yet very _Brittany_, statement. Almost

"Actually," Santana started again, brushing off Brittany's comment, "we just wanted to see what you did this weekend. I mean, the Puckasaurus must have some good stories." Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's approach, but she knew there was no better way to get through to Puck than to appeal to his ego.

"Not really," Puck moved to get his books out of his locker, apparently not suspicious at all about the ambush. "Me and Finn went and did some work down at the shop for Burt Saturday, pretty good money just for moving around a bunch of crap. And we were together on Friday." Quinn and Santana shared a look when Puck mentioned Friday. "So there you go. That was my weekend. What about you girls. Got any _stories_ you want to share?" Puck wiggled his eyebrows mischievously at the girls.

"Whatever, we gotta go." Santana grabbed the other two girls and pulled them behind her toward their English class, leaving a slightly confused Puck in their wake. "So, you get anything?" She looked at Quinn, hoping she would have been able to glean even a little insight from their brief conversation.

"Nothing," Quinn sighed. "I'll text Tina and let her know she's up."

Tina received Quinn's text as she and Mike made their way into the science class they shared with Puck. "Alright, looks like it's game on," she told her boyfriend. She hadn't told Mike any details, only that she needed his help feeling Puck out on something related to glee. He trusted her, so he went along with the scheme.

"Hey man," Mike addressed Puck when he took a seat at the lab table the three shared, trying to sound disgruntled. "Can you believe Tina lied to me?" Puck's jaw dropped a little. He couldn't believe it. Those two were like, a supercouple.

"Seriously? Goth! What has gotten into you? What are you trying to do to my boy over here?"

"Guys, come on. It was just a little white lie. Really nothing to be upset about!" Tina was trying her best to play the part, to not give away the girls' plan.

"A lie's a lie, in my book. Lying's not cool Tina. I'd have thought you'd realize that. I mean, look at me, Quinn, Finn, Rachel, and pretty much every other relationship in glee club."

Tina panicked a little. Surely he wouldn't be mad at Rachel over this particular, tiny lie. "Wait Puck! Just hear the details!" She grabbed Mike's hand under the table, urging him to just play along. "Ok, so the other night I was over at Mike's for dinner and a movie with his parents when his mom pulled out the wedding album. She had me sit and look through it with her for like, half an hour. I told her I loved it, that I loved her dress and the flowers and decorations and everything else. Then later, when Mike was taking me home, I took it back. I said I didn't really love the wedding album." Mike was starting to look at her like she was a little crazy, clearly wondering where she was going with this. "But then this morning, I told him that I really did love the wedding stuff. I just told him I didn't because I was afraid he would freak out about me talking about wedding stuff with his mom. And I didn't want him to freak out, because I really care about him and I don't want to scare him off." She rubbed Mike's hand reassuringly under the table, hoping that he would keep playing along.

"Ok, really? That's what this is about? Alright, I take back what I said before. I guess a lie's not always just a lie. 'Cause this is flat-out stupid." Puck rolled his eyes at his friends and moved to get out his textbook as the bell rang. Tina discreetly pulled her phone from her pocket to text the girls from under the table.

_**I unapologize  
>I meant every word<br>Won't take back the way I feel about you  
>I can't unsay what you heard<br>'Cause you heard me right  
>And I won't try to fight em' back, or hide my feelings for you<br>I unapologize.**_

Kurt and Mercedes rushed to the cafeteria to stake out one of the smaller tables before any of the guys from glee made it. All of the original members usually sat together at lunch, but today the girls (and Kurt) needed to be alone. That meant finding a table that the guys couldn't fit at before they got there. "Hey, Santana, Brittany! Over here," Kurt hissed across the room when he saw the girls enter. He and Mercedes had just snagged one of the round tables that usually sat six and Mercedes was in the process of pulling over one extra seat. Santana and Brittany made their way over, followed closely by Tina.

"Oh my gosh, guys, I'm so glad it's finally lunch time. I've had to avoid Mike all day ever since that ridiculous stunt I pulled this morning in science. I can't stand it anymore! Rachel's going to have to do something soon."

"Keep your voice down Tina," Quinn almost snuck up on them. "I could hear you from like, three tables away." She dropped her purse into one of the two remaining empty chairs and was getting ready to head toward the line when Finn stepped up beside her, clearly heading for the last seat at the table.

"Nope. No room at this table." Santana crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. The others watched silently. They were more than happy to let Santana handle the situation.

"But …" he motioned toward the empty seat, looking a little heartbroken.

"Rachel's seat." Santana didn't have time to mince words with him. Rachel could show up any second, and they needed him gone so they could get down to business.

"I just … that seat's next to Quinn."

"Yeah, your ex-girlfriends are friends now. Will it have repercussions for you? Probably," Santana shrugged, looking a little bored. "But deal with it."

"Well, why didn't you get a bigger table?" He really did seem to have his feelings hurt, which kind of made the other girls feel bad, but just annoyed Santana.

"Too full," she showed him that the conversation was over by taking a big bite out of her burger. Finn looked around the cafeteria, which was still only half full, clearly bewildered.

"Finn, just go," Kurt sighed. Sometimes Finn's cluelessness was adorable, but right now it was just tiring. "You and the guys can sit together somewhere else; it won't hurt for us all to not be attached at the hip for one day." Quinn and Finn made their way toward the food line, Finn looking defeated and Quinn looking relieved.

Rachel entered the cafeteria just as Quinn was returning to the girls' table with her food. Her eyes went to the table that the glee upperclassmen usually shared, but she saw three kids she had never seen before. She saw Finn, sitting alone on the other side of the cafeteria, before she saw Kurt or the girls. "Crap!" Mercedes grumbled, "Somebody go get her before she gets sucked in by Finn's 'lonely puppy' face and we lose our chance!"

"I got it," Quinn set her tray on the table and made her way quickly to Rachel, grabbing her elbow and dragging her toward their table.

"Quinn … what …?" Rachel was caught completely off-guard.

"We're over here. Just ignore Finn."

"But why is he sitting by himself?" Rachel no longer had _those_ feelings for Finn, but they were friends. She hated for her friends to be sad.

"We've got business to discuss," Quinn said matter-of-factly. "He'll be fine. Look, here come the other guys now." Quinn pointed to where Mike and Sam, pushing Artie, were making their way toward Finn. Rachel was barely able to get her lunchbox on the table before Quinn had pushed her in a seat and started talking. "Our plan this morning was a fail," she said, stabbing a piece of lettuce with her fork. "San, Britt, and I tried to talk to him, but we got nothing. Either it didn't faze him, or he's just really good at hiding it. Either is equally likely."

Rachel sighed as she began pulling her lunch out of her lunchbox. "I didn't do much better," Tina stated. "I'm a terrible liar. I'm pretty sure all I accomplished was to make my own boyfriend think I'm crazy."

"I'm sorry Tina," Rachel rubbed her friend's back. "I'm sorry to all of you. This is my problem, not yours. I should never have gotten you involved. But I do really appreciate all your help."

"Girl, don't be silly," Mercedes laughed. "This is the most excitement I've had in a long time! It was fun getting to live vicariously through your little adventure. Not that I want Puck!" she clarified, popping a tot into her mouth. "But you know, just the situation." Rachel looked and all of her friends nodded, reassuring her that they in fact did not mind helping. Even Santana looked less than annoyed.

"But Rachel," Kurt interjected, "we can't keep messing around like this. You're going to have to talk to him yourself sooner or later. Preferably sooner." As if on cue, the girls all froze as Kurt dropped his sandwich, watching Puck walk by on his way out of the cafeteria from the boys' table.

"I'll see you guys this afternoon at glee. I've got something to deal with," Puck called back to the guys as he lifted his head in greeting to Kurt, Santana, and Brittany, the only occupants at the girls' table who had a clear view of him.

Quinn rested one hand on top of Rachel's and waited until Rachel looked at her. "I think you have to do it now. It's the perfect time. We still have 10 minutes of lunch left, and he's leaving alone. Go after him!"

"But he said he had something to take care of. I don't want to interrupt him." Rachel stared down at the table nervously.

"Look Berry, this is Puck we're talking about here. He probably just wanted to get away from that sausage-fest table over there. And a little bit to avoid you." Santana shrugged one shoulder disinterestedly at Rachel. Rachel looked around the table at her friends, each of whom were nodding and encouraging her to go. She started gathering her things, putting her lunch back in her lunch box, when Tina stilled her hands with her own.

"We'll take care of it." Tina smiled warmly and Rachel nodded, looking a little bit terrified. Deciding it was now or never, Rachel stood up, straightened her skirt, and walked out of the cafeteria. It didn't take long to spot him. Puck was leaning against a row of lockers with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring off at nothing. Apparently Santana was right, he didn't have anything to do. She approached him slowly, staring at her feet and wringing her hands in front of her.

"Umm, Noah, can I talk to you?" She almost didn't recognize her own voice, it was so small.

"S'a free country Berry, talk." He didn't look at her when he spoke.

"Well, about Friday night …"

"That, we don't have to talk about," he interrupted. "It's whatever. It's fine; you said what you needed to say at your house. Let it go."

"But that's just the thing Noah, I didn't get to say what I needed to say. You see, the thing is, we have two weeks until graduation. Then it's one last crazy summer and then college, and who knows what will happen to all of us then. I mean, if we don't make the effort to keep up our relationships, that is." She looked at him hopefully. Was there any way he was just going to get it, to just understand what she was trying to say?

"Right, I get it." But he didn't. "You don't want to tie yourself down, to burden yourself with one more relationship to keep up with. I already told you, it's fine."

Apparently, she was going to have to spell this one out for him, because he certainly wasn't getting it on his own. She took a deep breath and rushed into explaining to him everything she really felt, everything she should have said Friday night on her porch._**  
>"There's no time to be holding it all in,<br>trying to pretend that I don't feel anything.  
>I shouldn't have said I'm sorry.<br>I meant every word,  
>Won't take back the way I feel about you.<br>I can't unsay what you heard,  
>'Cause you heard me right,<br>And I won't try to fight em' back, or hide my feelings for you...  
>I unapologize."<strong>_

"You un …?" Puck was clearly confused, tilting his head and staring at her through narrowed eyes.

"Unapologize. I unapologize, I rescind my apology, in other words. I take it back. I only said those things because I was afraid you were going to be upset. But I'm not sorry. Of course I love you. You've been one of my best friends over the past year, I would be crazy to think I could ever find anyone better than you. You're amazing to me." She stared at him, her eyes pleading with him. They were pleading for him to do something, anything. To tell her he loved her, to get lost, anything to take away the pain of waiting, hoping.

"So … you take it back? Not the 'I love you' part, but the apology part – you're not sorry?"

"Not even a little bit," she could feel the lump in her throat and the burning behind her eyes, but she thought that if he would hurry up and tell her he wasn't interested, she could make it to the ladies' room before she actually started crying.

"Thank God," he exhaled deeply as he moved to pin her body against the lockers with his own, covering her mouth with his before she even had a chance to voice her surprise.

"Pay up, bitches," Santana extended a hand toward Sam, Finn, Mike, and Artie. All the original glee members, along with a few of the newbies, were huddled in the cafeteria doorway watching the Puck and Rachel story unfold. The boys all groaned and dug out their wallets, pressing twenties into Santana's open palm. Santana noticed the confused and almost accusing looks she was receiving from her other teammates. "Ok," she rolled her eyes, "our boy Puck let it slip to Blabbermouth Hudson, who then shared the news with us this morning in history, that he had a thing for our girl. So, we decided to make a little pool. Whoever gets closest to the day they get their shit together gets the dough."

"Yeah," Artie chimed in, "and Santana insisted on today, and we all thought she was crazy, because we really didn't believe it would be that easy to get Rachel to go for it. Guess we were wrong," he snickered.

"But …" Quinn started, before feeling Santana's hand circle around her wrist.

"Keep your mouth shut, I'll cut you in," Santana hissed into her ear. Quinn smiled and made a locking motion over her lips. Hey, Rachel and Puck were happy, the girls deserved to get a little something out of the deal for what they had done for her, for them.

_**'Cause you heard me right, yeah  
>Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah<br>I unapologize**_


	5. Little Moments

**Little Moments – Brad Paisley**

_**Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard  
>That pretty mouth say that dirty word<br>And I can't even remember now  
>What she backed my truck into<br>But she covered her mouth and her face got red  
>And she just looked so darn cute<br>That I couldn't even act like I was mad**_

Rachel clutched her and Noah's jackets to her chest as she scanned the crowded room. She was glad that her boyfriend was ok with leaving the party so soon after getting there, but now she couldn't find him anywhere. She just wanted to get out of Santana's house, because although nothing particularly bad had happened, everything just felt wrong. "Hey Rach, everything ok?" She felt a heavy arm drape over her shoulders as she heard Finn's voice slurring in her ear. And there it was, one of the main reasons everything felt wrong at the party. For once, everyone was being nice to her, she felt like she had friends (even if really, they were Noah's friends, and only being nice to her because of him, but she would take what she could get), but now this one certain person was being a little too nice.

"Umm, yeah," she continued to look around the room, standing on her tip-toes to try to get a better view, "I'm just looking for Noah so we can leave." She held out the coats as if to provide Finn with proof of her intentions.

"Awwww, but you just got here," Finn leaned on her a little and she looked up to see a fake pout plastered on his face. That look, the one that would have melted her six months ago, annoyed the crap out of her.

"Yes, but _we've _been here long enough for Noah to have a few drinks," she stressed the word 'we' to assure Finn that she had no plans to do anything or go anywhere without Noah at her side, "and now _we_ need to get out of here before my slightly drunk boyfriend does something we'll all regret." She didn't tell him that the thing her boyfriend might do that they would all regret (although, in reality, Puck probably wouldn't regret it at all) was kick his ass for being just a little too cozy with Rachel. Ever since they walked through the door, Finn couldn't keep his eyes, or often his hands, off her. "Ooh, there he is!" She waved in Noah's direction, "Noah! Over here!"

"Oh, hey," it was clear he had been looking for her too, because his shoulders relaxed and he smiled when he saw her. "There's my girl," he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. "Hudson," he addressed him drily, giving him a not-so-subtle "touch her and I'll kill you" look. While Puck trusted Rachel, and he believed her when she said that she no longer had any romantic feelings toward Finn and she promised to be faithful, that shit was not cool. Although he and Finn were friends, though not quite the same as they used to be, deep down he sometimes thought that Finn pulled this crap with Rachel as a form of revenge for things that had gone down in the past.

"Finn was just helping me look for you. You know, since he has a better vantage point and all," she giggled and nuzzled into his embrace. Normally, she was very against lying, but in this case, nothing had happened with Finn (she would have relieved him of his genitals herself if he had tried anything), and since Noah was already pretty buzzed, it just made sense to smooth things over. Rachel knew that Puck had a problem with how affectionate Finn was toward her, as if it was some sort of elaborate evil plot for payback (Finn, really?). She just thought it was because Finn was lonely, and for the first time, she wasn't just waiting to jump back into his arms at the first opportunity. She didn't think he knew how to handle that.

"Welp, here I am," Puck captured her lips in his for a brief, but searing, kiss. "You ready to go?" He ran his hand down the back of her head, wrapping his hand around her hair at the base of her neck and forming it into a loose ponytail before running his hand down the rest of the length and letting it go. He knew she loved when he played with her hair, and he didn't exactly mind. There was something like, sneaky-sexy about that hair. She nodded and stared up at him with those eyes he just wanted to dive into. He couldn't be 100% positive, but he was pretty sure she never looked at Hudson that way. She reached toward him to hand him his coat, but he took them both from her, shrugging his on then helping her into hers. They waved back at Finn, who, Puck noticed with satisfaction, looked like he had just been punched in the stomach.

"Have I told you lately how awesome you are?" He tried to hide his snicker as he watched her fiddling with the seat adjuster bar, trying to position herself so that she could reach the pedals and steering wheel and still be able to see out the windshield. Since they had already decided that she would be the designated driver, it would have made much more sense to bring her car, but then Santana had gotten all bitchy and insisted that Rachel come over right after school to get ready together and help her set up for the party. Not that he minded, 'cause his girl looked crazy hot in Santana's clothes (not that there was anything wrong with her own clothes, but seeing her in something a little more, well, naughty, occasionally was kinda cool), but that meant that Santana had followed Rachel home from school just long enough to drop off Rachel's car and he had to drive to Santana's himself for the party. That was why he was now sitting in the passenger seat of his own truck watching his adorable girlfriend try to situate herself to drive the vehicle that just seemed much too large for her.

"Define lately," she smirked at him. He laughed as he leaned across the seat to rest his hands on her hips and nip gently at her lips.

"You're awesome babe," he felt her smile against his mouth. "The awesomest." She ran a hand over his mohawk and rested it on the back of his neck, letting her fingers scratch through his hair. She placed one more chaste kiss on his lips before gently pushing him away in order to start the truck. He had been smart enough to park halfway down the block where the road dead ends into a field, even though he was one of the first to arrive and the driveway was mostly empty. He wanted an easy escape in case they decided to leave early for some reason. Good call. "You know babe," he started once she had adjusted her mirrors one last time and cut the wheel to pull out and around the little Honda in front of them, "if you want you can just -," He didn't finish his thought because he suddenly felt the truck lurch backward.

"Shit!" Rachel's hand flew to her mouth as soon as the word was out. They both felt the jolt and heard the sickening metallic _crunch_ as the rear end of the truck hit something, probably a fence post. Other than the bright red hue of her face, Puck couldn't see anything wrong with her, but he still wasted no time in undoing his seatbelt to slide across the seat and cradle her in his arms.

With one arm around her shoulder, he used the other hand to run over her body, inspecting for injuries. "You ok Rach? Everything ok? Does anything hurt?"

"I'm fine," she choked out, almost sobbing. His eyes flew to her face, panicked. She said she was fine, and he hadn't found any blood or anything, no area that he touched made her scream in pain, but she was crying. "I'm just – Oh Noah, I'm so sorry!" She buried her head in his shoulder and within seconds he felt her tears soaking through his shirt. He kissed the top of her head before lightly gripping her shoulders and pushing her away from him so that he could look into her eyes.

"Hey, I'm ok. Look, not a scratch on me!" She didn't seem convinced, because she kept crying, sniffling every few seconds.

"But … but your truck! I've ruined your truck! You probably hate me now," she sobbed, suddenly looking desperately into his eyes, "Please don't hate me Noah!"

He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, lifting her legs over his so she was effectively sitting on his lap. She burrowed her head into the hollow of his neck and he rubbed his hand slowly up and down her spine. "Alright, just slow down killer. First of all, hate you? Let's get serious here. I thought I was sposed to be the drunk one." He peeked down at her face, hoping to see even the smallest trace of a smile. No such luck. "But Rachel, have you seen my truck? I mean really, if anything you probably made it look better. Hey! Maybe your dent will camouflage the dent from when I was pulling Finn behind me on my skateboard and I _accidentally_ stopped too fast. Seriously, I mean, you can legit see the outline of his face!" He felt her shoulders shake and he heard a noise, and while he couldn't tell if that noise was a giggle or a hiccup, it definitely wasn't a sob. He was making progress.

"You're not mad at me?" She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and her voice sounded tiny, like a little child. He had come to realize that his girl was pretty badass herself, and he had kind of forgotten how vulnerable she could be.

"No babe," he pushed the hair away from her face, "I'm not mad at you. I'm fine, you're fine, and the truck's always been a piece of shit." He relaxed when he saw a hint of a smile. "Now, can we just go home? What I was trying to say before was that if you want, you can just stay the night at my house. Ma said it was ok. Actually, it was kinda her idea. I mean, not that I don't want you to, I just wouldn't have really thought of asking her, but she said she doesn't like the idea of you staying home alone when your dads are gone. Said it makes her feel better to _know_ you're safe. I'm inclined to agree," he smirked.

Rachel shifted on his lap so that she could really study his face. He honestly didn't appear to be angry. She wondered how exactly she had managed to end up with him, to get so lucky. "I would love that Noah," she kissed him sweetly when she saw the smile he tried to hide. "But you're still inebriated, and there's no way I'm letting you touch the keys, and I doubt you want me driving now. I think we may be stuck here for a while." Her face fell; she hadn't realized how much she wanted to spend the night at Noah's house until she thought she might not be able to.

"Don't be stupid," Rachel gasped, but she relaxed when she saw the playful look he was giving her. "Of course I still want you to drive. You're like, the best driver I know. Let's just make sure we get it in 'drive' this time and not 'reverse,' and we're golden." He knew she was pretty much back to her normal self when she slapped him, hard, on the shoulder before sliding off his lap and back behind the wheel.

When they were about a block from Puck's house, he started to laugh uncontrollably. When they reached the stop sign at the corner of his street, Rachel turned and looked at him as if he had just grown three heads. "Noah Puckerman, what on earth has gotten into you? I _know_ you weren't that drunk. Is your buzz just now starting to hit you or something?" Apparently she said something funny, because he only laughed harder. "Noah! Tell me what you're laughing at!"

He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself enough to actually talk. "You … you cussed!" He burst into hysterics again and pointed across the truck at her. She continued to stare at him like he was crazy. "Rachel Berry said 'shit!'" He held his stomach as he laughed even harder. She only gasped.

"I – I was scared! It shocked me! Noah please, you can't tell anyone," she looked at him as if she were begging him not to tell anyone that she had just robbed at bank or something.

"Don't worry gorgeous, my lips are sealed," he moved to unlatch his seatbelt as she pulled into his driveway. "Besides," he chuckled, "s'not like anyone would believe me anyway. Wow, I guess I really am a bad influence on you."

She smiled at him as she removed the keys from the ignition and dropped them into his waiting palm before sliding her own palm almost painfully slowly up his thigh. She giggled when she saw the way his eyes widened when her hand climbed even higher and dropped to the inside of his leg. "Yeah, but only in the best possible way."

_**Yeah I live for little moments like that**_

_**~.~**_

_**Well that's just like last year on my birthday  
>She lost all track of time and burnt the cake<br>And every smoke detector in the house was goin' off  
>And she was just about to cry until I took her in my arms<br>And I tried not to let her see me laugh**_

"Ma? Squirt? What's that smell? It smells like something's burning. Everything ok?" Puck had come home from school to a distinct burning smell and a vaguely hazy living room. It was strange. His mom didn't cook often, and when she did it was basically simple, fool-proof stuff that she couldn't really mess up. He really hoped Sarah hadn't gotten into her brain to try to cook something. That could be a disaster. He dropped his backpack by the door and toed off his shoes before quickly making his way to the kitchen. He didn't see anyone at first, partly because of the smoke, and partly because there really didn't seem to be anything to see. It wasn't _that_ smoky, and yet there was no sign of movement whatsoever. He walked around the island to turn off the stove, and there, surrounded by oven mitts and towels and staring dejectedly at what looked like a large black brick, sat Rachel Berry in what appeared to be a new dress (a pretty freakin' hot one at that). "Wha … uhh … I mean, wow," he let out a deep breath and decided to just start from the beginning. "Where are Ma and Sarah?"

"Mall, Breadstix," she didn't even look up, just kept staring at that brick as if it would somehow magically transform into something edible.

"But, Ma's car is still here," he gestured toward the front of the house as if for proof, "and … yours isn't, by the way." He added that last part almost more for his own benefit. He hadn't registered that fact until that very moment.

She nodded. "They took mine." Without even looking up at him, she seemed to sense the look of confusion on his face. "It was supposed to be a surprise," she sighed. That's when it all sank in. Honestly, without his mom or little sister, or Rachel, come to think of it, gushing over him, he had forgotten it was his birthday. He had never put that much into birthdays, he learned early that was just a good way to get let down. After the third birthday in a row of his dad not showing up even after he promised he would, Puck stopped even asking. And while his mom always tried her best, he knew she did, he never got any of the things he really wanted. They just couldn't afford it. So, by the time his 18th rolled around, a birthday was just another day. But then, Rachel Berry hadn't been his girlfriend for any of his other birthdays.

He kicked what he assumed was supposed to be his cake to the side and squatted in front of her to force her to look at him. Not a moment too soon, he guessed, since her chin was starting to quiver and the next time she blinked there would probably be a river of tears streaming down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood quickly, sweeping her up with him. He felt her clutching his shirt and was about to run his hands down her hair when he realized it was pulled back neatly and cascading down her back in bouncy curls. He decided maybe sticking his hands in it wasn't the best idea this time (but he made a note to make sure to do it later, it looked awesome). Instead, he just ran them up and down her back a few times before leading her over to the table to sit in a chair that he had to assume was at least more comfortable than her spot on the floor in front of his smoking oven. He pulled one of the other chairs over to sit directly in front of her and waited until she no longer looked like she was about to erupt into tears at any moment.

"So, wanna tell me what this is all about?" He smirked at her.

"Noah! It's your birthday!" She looked shocked and appalled that he didn't instantly understand everything that was going on around him.

"Is it?" He looked back at her in mock confusion. "I had no idea!" The irony of that statement being, of course, that it really _had_ slipped his mind. She slapped his arm and he rolled his eyes. "Ok, but that doesn't explain why you're here trying to burn my house down while my mom and my little sister are off at the mall or Breadstix, not really sure which, in _your_ car."

"Mall then Breadstix," Rachel informed him and he smirked, thinking that _of course_ that would be the part she would answer first. "Ok," she took a deep breath and looked into his eyes as if she were about to reveal her deepest, darkest secret to him. "Promise not to tell?"

He wanted to laugh. He wanted it so, so badly. But that would be bad. "Tell who, Ra-," he saw her glaring at him. "Right, I promise." He held up his hand to her displaying his first two fingers as proof that he would keep the promise. And still, he was trying almost impossibly hard not to laugh.

"We were throwing you a surprise party." He actually sat back in his chair and stared at her. Every time she did something, he swore to himself that was it, there was no way she could surprise him again. Then, she went and surprised him. "The first surprise was to be my being here when you got home, which is why your mother and sister took my car. Then, once we had a little time to celebrate your birthday, just the two of us … Don't get so excited," she rolled her eyes when she saw the way his face lit up when she said 'just the two of us,' "not _that much_ time. Anyway, I was supposed to get you to Breadstix for dinner, with dinner being code for big surprise party with all your friends. And my one responsibility, other than getting you to show up, which I knew would be easy, was to take care of the cake. And I couldn't even handle that! I went to get ready and I just wanted to look perfect for you tonight, and I guess I must have taken a bit too long, 'cause when I came back down there was smoke everywhere." She looked so dejected that all he could think to do was lean forward and kiss her. He kissed her lips, then her forehead, then finally her nose, before standing up and turning away from the table. "Wh – Where are you going?"

"To change," he said it matter-of-factly, as if it was just common sense and she should have known without asking. "I can't very well show up to my own birthday party looking like this," he waved both hands up and down his body, "with you on my arm looking like _that_." He took a step toward her and held one of her hands in one of his much larger ones, lifting it over her head and tugging a little until she stood and did a little spin in the middle of his kitchen. "Yeah, you look way hotter than me right now. Gotta fix that."

Rachel blushed in spite of herself and lowered her head. It seemed he was always saying things like that, but it never failed to make her feel a little warm inside. "So … you still wanna go, even after the big mess I made of the whole thing?" She called after him, following a few steps behind as he headed toward the stairs.

"'Course I still wanna go babe. You planned me a surprise party, shit's awesome! Just gimme a minute. Doesn't take me as long to get beautiful as it does you," he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to wink at her.

"Yeah right Puckerman, you just _wish_ you were as beautiful as me," she struck a model pose and smirked at him. Damn, when did his girl get so feisty? He just shook his head and began climbing the stairs, grateful that he would get a couple minutes out of her sight because he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself from laughing. Everything from the moment he had walked in the front door was just too much to handle.

"Just one thing Rach," she looked up at him, paused halfway up the stairs, and he realized that this vantage point afforded him an awesome view down her dress, "who's gonna explain to everyone that there's no cake 'cause Rachel Berry, master of 'I'm sorry' cookies and kick ass banana bread, burnt it to a crisp?" He barely had time to duck when one of his mom's hand-made throw pillows whizzed just over his head. _'At least her aim's improving,_' he thought.

When Puck and Rachel got back to his house after two hours at Breadstix with his mom and Sarah, Rachel's dads, and all their friends from glee, he thought he just may have pulled a muscle in his face from laughing and smiling so much. Sure, it was cool that everyone came to do that for him for his birthday. But that wasn't really what made him so happy. More than anything, he loved seeing his girl so … in her element. He kept her tucked into his side all night, and he couldn't miss the way she subtly (so she thought) held her breath and looked up at him every time he received another gift. And he didn't miss the way she blushed whenever someone, even Santana, told her that she had done a good job on the party. It was perfectly obvious how proud it made her that she was able to do that for him, and he loved that. "You wanna come in for a little while?" He looked across the truck at her and saw the mischievous grin that she was giving him.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before jumping out of the truck and heading for the porch. By the time he reached the front door, he could hear her telling his mother goodnight in the living room. His Ma and Sarah had left a bit early, along with Rachel's fathers, to give the kids a little extra time to hang out and so Sarah could go to bed. He decided to follow Rachel's lead and go talk to his mother for a minute before heading up to his room, which apparently Rachel had already disappeared to.

"Hey Ma," he leaned over the back of the couch and rested his cheek beside hers, "just wanted to say thanks, you know, for everything."

She lifted a hand to pat her son on the cheek, "Well Noah, you know Rachel pretty much did everything, and it was all her idea. I just played along." Puck captured her hand in his and trapped it against his face.

"Yeah, but I'm not just talking about the party. I mean, ya know, _everything_ everything." She only nodded and turned her hand a little to squeeze her son's fingers. He kissed the top of his mother's head and moved to go upstairs and meet Rachel.

"Noah," he stopped and turned toward her, "this is for you. I know I gave you a gift at the party, but this is just a little mother-son thing." He went back to take the card she was holding up for him. "Goodnight Noah."

Holding the card, Puck took the stairs two at a time to go see his girl. When he got to the room, the first thing he noticed was the small pink suitcase at the foot of the bed. That, and the fact that Rachel was nowhere in sight. "Rach?" He heard her giggle behind him and turned to see her standing in the doorway wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. Well, she wasn't wearing _just_ that. He knew Rachel, and he knew that there was a pair of tiny shorts under there somewhere, because there was no way she would walk around his house in just the shirt, even if it was practically a dress on her. "What's up babe?" He sat on the bed and leaned one arm on the suitcase, lifting one eyebrow at her.

"You up for a sleepover?" She lifted one hand high above her head and leaned into the door frame. God, his girl was sexy, as if he needed the reminder.

"Really?" Now both eyebrows were lifted, because he was pretty sure there was no way this was really happening. Sure, she had stayed the night a couple times since that first time after Santana's party, but those were always unplanned stays when her dads were out of town and she didn't feel like being at home alone. And they always resulted in her sleeping in whatever she wore to school that day and leaving pretty much as soon as she woke up because of her "morning breath and unruly appearance." Whatever, she was still hot. But she had never, ever, brought over a suitcase. And she had certainly never pranced around wearing one of his shirts as a nightgown like that, or suggested a 'sleepover.' She bit her lip and nodded at him. "Fuck yeah!" He jumped off the bed and pushed her suitcase to the floor, moving to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair (yep, definitely gettin' his hands in _that_ later). He lifted her off her feet a little to kiss her before turning to close the bedroom door.

Rachel giggled when he set her back on the floor and then retreated to sit on the bed. She was pretty sure her suggestion of a sleepover had gotten an even bigger smile than those concert tickets Finn gave him. "Umm, Rach, you mind if I …" he was looking down at her uncertainly and his fingers hovered over the top button of his dress shirt. It wasn't like it was anything she hadn't seen before, but the context was different and the whole thing just felt … new.

"Of course Noah, this is your room." She waved at him casually and bent down to push her suitcase under the bed and out of the way. Even if it wasn't her room, she could still do her best to keep it tidy. "Hey Noah," he turned away from his dresser, where he was currently digging around for a pair of pajama pants, "what's this?" She held up the card his mother had given him. He must have dropped it in his excitement over her suggestion of a sleepover.

"Oh," he went back to his quest, "Ma gave me that downstairs. Just set it on the night stand." Finally finding his pants and slipping them over his boxers, he went to sit next to Rachel on the bed. "You ready to lay down babe? I'm kinda beat." He blushed as he reached for the remote to turn on the tv. It was totally not badass to be 'beat' this early on a Friday night, but at the moment he didn't care. He cared even less when she smiled and nodded at him and crawled across his bed to wiggle under the covers. He lifted the blankets on his side and settled into the comfort of his bed, pulling Rachel close to him.

"Did you like your party Noah?" she purred into his chest, running her fingers up and down his abs. He nodded when she looked up at him and lifted his head off his pillow to kiss her hair. "And all your presents?" He smiled again and pulled her up closer to him.

"Yeah, but your dads gave me the best gift," he was giving her that smile that no one else ever got to see.

"Really? It was just a cd. And I didn't even know you liked Daughtry that much." Her brows were furrowed, and dammit, she was just so cute when she was confused.

"Seriously babe?" he watched her and snickered. "Not really what I was talkin' about." He continued to watch her as realization dawned over her. He laughed a little harder when her face started to glow and he knew she understood.

"You're wonderful Noah," she pushed herself up off his chest to give him a long, slow kiss. "Happy birthday ." She settled back onto his chest and turned her attention to the television, where he had managed to find a perfectly decent movie on a cable channel. Pretty satisfied with himself, he reached over to the night stand to pick up the card his mother had given him. The front had some cheesy black and white picture of a little boy with his mom, but even though it was totally corny, it made him smile. The card didn't have any pre-printed message inside, but his mother had written him something of her own.

_Noah,_

_I am absolutely ashamed to say this, but I always worried that when your 18__th__ birthday came around, all I would feel was fear at knowing that since you were officially an adult, the next time you got into trouble wouldn't result in juvie. But that's not what I feel at all. I look at you now, and I see a wonderful young man. I've always known you had it in you, but I was afraid that not having a father to guide you would keep that wonderful young man from getting out. But now, I can see that's not the case. And as much I would love to take credit for that, I can't. All the credit goes to two people: you, for finally realizing what you could be and making it happen, and Rachel for helping you realize it. I know you two are young, and things happen, but you need to know how special that girl is and how valuable she is for you. No matter what happens, she has helped you become this great man, and you owe her for that. Please don't ever forget that, and don't forget that in return, she deserves not only your affection, but your respect as well. I have no doubt that you won't let me down._

_Love,  
>Ma<em>

Puck smiled and wrapped both arms around Rachel, pulling her even closer so that one of her legs draped over his and her upper body covered most of his left side. Yeah, his mom could be pushy, and subtlety certainly wasn't her strong suit (like it wasn't totally obvious to anyone with eyes that she was chomping at the bit for them to just grow up already so they could get married and give her lots of Jewish grandbabies), but she was also 100% right.

_**Yeah I live for little moments like that**_

_**~.~**_

_**I know she's not perfect but she tries so hard for me  
>And I thank God that she isn't<br>Cause how boring would that be?  
>It's the little imperfections<br>It's the sudden change in plans  
>When she misreads the directions and we're lost but holdin' hands<strong>_

Rachel wasn't sure how she messed up so badly. She had this all planned out. It was simple; instead of heading east on I-76, she would just keep going north on I-71. They had already decided to leave a day early and spend the night before the show in Pittsburgh, because they didn't want to leave any possibility of missing the show. Well, she and Kurt didn't. Blaine and Puck seemed more interested in staying the night in a new city with their significant others than in arriving at least 24 hours early to make sure they were there for the tour production of "Wicked." So even though Rachel knew her little detour would add a few hours to the trip, they should still be ok. They would just stay and have dinner in Cleveland, then leave and check into their hotel that evening instead of earlier in the afternoon. But somehow, everything had gone wrong. They were almost two hours behind schedule and they hadn't even reached Cleveland yet. Luckily, Puck and Blaine were in the backseat having some epic PSP battle, so they didn't have a clue that they were, essentially, lost. Kurt had fallen asleep in the passenger seat 20 minutes into the ride. At first she was annoyed, because he was supposed to be her companion, to sit up front and keep her company on the long drive. But once she realized that her plans had gone awry somewhere along the way, she was thankful that Kurt wasn't awake to let her hear about it. But now he was waking up, and as he took notice of the signs around them, he was not happy.

"I gave you fool-proof directions Rachel! Fool-proof!" Kurt was waving his arms violently and screaming at Rachel. Puck and Blaine had noticed that something was taking place directly in front of them, but they were too involved in their game to hear exactly what, and they both knew from past experience that when those two fought it was better to just let them get it out themselves than to get involved. "How could you mess this up? Let me see those." Kurt reached for the directions Rachel had laid out on her lap. Panic etched on her face, she tried to pull them out of his reach, but with most of her attention focused on the road, her reflexes weren't quick enough. "_RACHEL!"_ Now their boyfriends were paying attention. "What is this? Cleveland! Why are these directions to Cleveland! Cleveland is over 100 miles north of Pittsburgh! What did you do? Pull over, right now!"

Rachel glanced into her rearview mirror and made eye contact with Puck. He looked confused, but not angry. "Kurt," she sighed, trying to keep her voice even, "we're on the interstate. I can't just pull over on the side of the road." She didn't want the others to hear the fear in her voice, because so far none of them seemed to have realized that not only had she gone and changed the plans by heading for Cleveland, but now she was lost and wasn't even quite sure where Cleveland was, let alone Pittsburgh or even Lima.

"Fine," Kurt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "I just saw a sign for a rest area in two miles. You _will _stop there." Afraid to say anything else, Rachel only nodded and looked back into the mirror, hoping to catch Puck's eye again. Sure enough, he was still watching her reflection, and when their eyes met, he smiled and gave her a little wink. He had her back.

Rachel turned off the car and dropped her head back onto the seat's headrest once the car was settled in a parking spot at the rest area. Puck snaked his arms around either side of the seat to rub his girl's shoulders gently. He could tell she was upset, probably about more than just Kurt's outburst, if the tension in her neck was any indication. She could hold her own with Kurt, and the best friends fought more than anyone he knew, so she didn't usually get this stressed over just an argument with him. "Ok," Kurt huffed, turning to glare at Rachel, "would you like to tell us all what this is about?"

"Well," Rachel started, staring at her hands in her lap while Puck gave her shoulders an extra little squeeze, "I just thought we would take a little detour. It wasn't supposed to interfere with the show – we should still be in Pittsburgh to check into our hotel tonight, which leaves tomorrow to see the city a little if we want then easily get to the theatre on time."

"But Cleveland Rachel? It doesn't even make sense! What the hell is in Cleveland?" Blaine and Puck shared a look in the backseat. They both knew, you don't just change plans on Kurt. It doesn't work that way. And if they were perfectly honest, they were wondering what on earth had gotten into Rachel as well. It wasn't like her to be spontaneous, especially when "Wicked" was on the line. And really, what _was_ in Cleveland?

"The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame," Rachel almost whispered her answer, and Puck's hands stilled on her shoulders. He had no idea how to respond to that, or even if he should.

"Are you kidding me!" Kurt threw his hands into the air, as much as possible in Rachel's small car, before flinging his door open and storming across the sidewalk and into the middle of the grassy courtyard beside the rest area building. Blaine smiled weakly at Puck before getting out to follow and comfort his boyfriend.

Puck leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats so that he could finally really see his girlfriend. Bringing one hand to her cheek, he turned her head so that she was looking back at him, and he could see the tears ready to spill out of her eyes. He was going to kill Kurt later. "What's going on in there?" He tapped her temple with his forefinger.

Rachel looked back at him, suddenly afraid to tell him her plan. She didn't know what she was afraid of, she had done it for him, but everything else had blown up in her face so far. "It's just, you've been so great to me, agreeing to this trip and everything. I mean, I know you don't really care about seeing 'Wicked.'"

"No, but I care about my girl, and getting to spend a night with her in a hotel room," he wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggle. "But seriously Rach, this trip wasn't supposed to be about me. It's about you, I'm here for you." He leaned forward to kiss her sweetly on the lips.

"Thank you Noah, that means the world to me. But I wanted to do something for you too. They've got this U2 exhibit that I think you would love, with a 3D movie and everything." Puck tried to hide his excitement, because he didn't want her to feel bad that her plans seemed to be falling through. But seriously, that was awesome. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her forward and kissed her again, harder this time. He kissed her until his chest burned, and just before he pulled away, he bit her bottom lip lightly, just to let her know just how much he wanted her right then. When he pulled back to look at her, she still had her eyes closed and she was panting a little. He loved having that effect on her. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled at him before looking out the window toward Kurt and Blaine. "Ok," she sighed. "I guess I should go talk to him." Puck nodded and got out of the car, stepping forward to open her door for her as well. He held her hand as they walked around the car, then loosened his grip so she could slip away to talk to her friend.

A moment later, Blaine had joined Puck and the two of them were sitting on the hood of Rachel's car, waiting for either her or Kurt's head to explode. "Kurt, will you just listen to me for a second?" Puck knew Rachel was getting more and more upset by the second, because her voice just went higher and higher. Soon only dogs would be able to hear her. He could tell Blaine was trying not to laugh, and he finally allowed himself to admit that the scene in front of them was pretty hilarious. Kurt was standing in the middle of the grass in all his designer jean, Marc Jacobs sweater glory with his hands planted firmly on his hips and his face a shade of red Puck wasn't sure he'd ever seen before, tapping his foot impatiently. Rachel was pacing in front of him, alternating between wringing her hands in front of her and waving them erratically above her head, stomping her little mary jane-clad foot occasionally. He didn't tell Blaine that he actually found it pretty adorable. "I thought it would be nice to do something for Noah and Blaine. Just because they are our boyfriends doesn't mean they have to love everything we love. And yeah, Blaine might be a little more interested in 'Wicked' than Noah is, but you know he wouldn't be here either if it weren't for you and the thought of all of us staying in a hotel in a city 250 miles away from our parents." Puck looked at Blaine, who raised his eyebrows and nodded in confirmation, making Puck laugh a little more.

"You know," Blaine said, drawing Puck's attention away from the comedy show in front of them, "officially, as Kurt's boyfriend, I'm upset right now," Puck smirked at him. "But as your friend, I gotta say, your girlfriend's kinda awesome." Both boys laughed and Blaine clapped a hand on Puck's shoulder.

"I know, badass, right," Puck spoke to Blaine but turned his eyes back to his little fireball of a girlfriend. "S'one of the reasons I love her." Before the words were even all the way out of his mouth, Puck was trying to draw them back in. He shifted uncomfortably and started to stammer, and when Blaine looked at him, his eyes were as big as saucers.

Blaine laughed a little harder, "You've never said that out loud before, have you?" Puck only shook his head, his eyes still huge and his jaw slack. "Definitely never said it to her then, huh?" Puck shook his head harder. "Right. Well, your secret's safe with me." Puck relaxed a little. So yeah, he guessed he did love Rachel. And it wasn't like he didn't want her to know, but he sure as hell didn't want her to find out from Blaine or Kurt. And he'd like to be a little more sure that she loved him. He knew she cared about him, but after all that crap with Finn she had become pretty guarded. He got that, and he respected it, he just didn't want to go laying it all on the line until he knew they were on the _same_ line. "So …" Puck shook himself back to reality when he heard Blaine's voice again, "love. Welcome to the club."

_**Yeah I live for little moments like that**_

_**~.~**_

_**When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark  
>And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm<br>And I want so bad to move it  
>Cause it's tinglin' and it's numb<br>But she looks so much like an angel  
>That I don't wanna wake her up<strong>_

"Alright Rach, your dads went to bed almost two hours ago and that was the third male enhancement commercial that you have failed to comment on. Bedtime," Puck brushed the hair off Rachel's face while her head rested on a pillow in his lap.

Rachel struggled to push herself up to a sitting position. She couldn't deny that she was drifting off, but she wouldn't admit it either. Though it now required two hands to count the number of times she had slept over at his house (one of the drawers in his night stand now contained a stick of Secret, a tube of both her facial cleanser and moisturizer, and a pink toothbrush), he had yet to stay the night with her. Her dads had become comfortable with the fact that she often stayed at the Puckerman house when they were out of town, and they had even let her stay over on his birthday although they were home. And to be honest, they were almost more comfortable with the idea of Noah sleeping over at their house; at least then they knew where their daughter was (not that they didn't trust her or thought she was out doing something she shouldn't be, they were just worrisome parents and liked the comfort of knowing exactly where their daughter laid her head at night, and even being able to peek in on their little girl if they wanted). But Puck was not comfortable staying over at her house. So, knowing that it was a long weekend and therefore she had an extra day to get back into her normal routine before going back to school on Tuesday, Rachel made a plan. Puck's rule was simple, he would stay as long as they were both awake, but as soon as she started showing signs of sleep, he went home. So Rachel decided that she just wouldn't go to sleep. She would force herself to stay up until morning, almost tricking him into staying the night, even if it wasn't in bed. "No no no! I'm awake, see," Rachel made an almost manic face at him for proof.

"Yeah," he laughed, "I can see that. But you weren't 30 seconds ago." He rolled his eyes at her signature pout. In the beginning that thing killed him, but now he was almost immune, since he knew she was almost always faking it just to get what she wanted. Pulling her to him with a hand on the back of her head, he brushed his lips lightly along her forehead. "And baby, you know that's my cue."

"Please Noah, please don't go. One more chance. Look, I won't even lay down, I'll sit up right here next to you." Well shit, this pout wasn't fake. She sat cross-legged beside him and stared at him with wide eyes, both of her hands clinging to one of his. It really wasn't fair.

"Ok, fine," he sighed, pulling his hand from her grasp to wrap his arm around her shoulders, "but I mean it Rach, I'm watching you. Your eyes close for more than three seconds and I'm putting you to bed and getting out of here." She nodded and smiled that million-watt smile that made his whole body tingle. He was so fucked when it came to this girl, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

About 30 minutes later, Puck and Rachel were still sitting on his couch watching the SVU marathon that she had lured him over with in the first place. Every couple of minutes he would tilt his head down to see if she was still awake. He meant what he said; as soon as she was asleep, he was out the door. It was nothing to do with Rachel, he loved spending nights with her. He had started to get to the point that it was hard to sleep in his own bed alone. But he was terrified of spending the night at her house. It was one thing to sleep with her in his house where he knew his mom would never walk into the room, and even if she did, it wouldn't really matter. It was something totally different to think about staying at her house, with her dads. It made him queasy just to think about. Hell, he barely liked to kiss her in front of them. He had never even met any other girl's dad. And Rachel had two of them. Two! But somehow, miraculously, she was still awake. It was kind of amazing what his girl could do when she was determined.

He knew it was finally time to leave when the detectives walked in on a crime scene full of children that made even Benson cry (she was one tough bitch!) and Rachel didn't flinch. He craned his neck to look down at her, and sure enough her eyelashes were fanned across her cheeks and her chest was rising and falling in a slow, gentle rhythm. It couldn't have come at a better time either, because for the last five minutes he hadn't been able to feel his right arm. But when he started to slide his arm out from under her head, she shifted, lifting her feet up off the floor to curl her legs into his lap and wrapping her arms around his waist. He sighed, a little disappointed that he wasn't going to regain the feeling in his arm any time soon. But at the same time, he couldn't help but smile. There was something about the way her body just molded into his that he couldn't get over. His smile transformed to a smirk when he realized that maybe her silly little plan was more clever than he had given her credit for. Even though it made him feel pretty awesome when he realized that she intended to keep him there all night by staying awake, he knew there was no way she would make it. Rachel Berry just wasn't a "staying up all night" kinda girl. But now, even though she had not in fact been able to stay up all night (duh), he was still there. And he was kind of trapped. Sneaky little girl.

Realizing there was no way to win this one (although really, wasn't this kind of winning?), he toed off his shoes and propped his feet up on the ottoman her dad usually kept in front of his armchair but had pushed over in front of Puck, knowing that his daughter was a couch hog. He decided that if he was going to have to end up staying the night eventually anyway, this was probably the best way to do it. Really, how upset could her dads get about him sleeping, fully dressed in his school clothes, upright on the couch? Ok, so it was still a little scary, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. When he scooted down to try to get a little more comfortable and find a position that didn't make his neck ache, his chin landed on the top of her head and he got a big whiff of her hair. He lowered his head to press his lips into the top of her head. "Love you Rachel Berry," he murmured. It was only the second time he'd ever said it out loud, and the first time in her presence, but he was kind of surprised at how natural it felt.

He froze when he felt her moving again. She wasn't supposed to hear that, not yet anyway. He couldn't risk telling her until he knew she felt the same way. Sure, he was a little worried about the rejection of saying it and not hearing it back, but he was even more worried about what it would do to her if it wasn't something she was ready to hear. She'd only had two boyfriends besides him, and both of them had professed deep feelings for her either without meaning it or without knowing what love really was. He couldn't classify himself with Jesse St. Jackass or Clueless Finn Hudson. So, when he finally did tell her that he loved her, he wanted to make sure that she knew he really meant it. He relaxed when she just nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. "Love you too, Noah." Even though he could tell from her sleep-laced voice and the way the even rhythm of her breathing didn't change that she wasn't actually awake, his heart still jumped into his throat when she said those words. Yeah, it was a _really_ good night for his first sleepover at the Berry house.

_**Yeah I live for little moments  
>When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it<br>Yeah I live for little moments like that**_


	6. All or Nothing

**Please, please, PLEASE go listen to this song before reading the story. It makes all the difference.**

**All or Nothing – Theory of a Deadman**

Rachel Berry had always been an "all or nothing" kind of girl (usually opting for "all"). It was all or nothing when it came to her competitions and her lessons as a little girl. It was all or nothing when it came to her high school glee club. And it was all or nothing when it came to both her relationships and her career, which many people said would never work (or at least that she would have to choose the 'nothing' route for one of them). But Rachel didn't believe that; she was determined that she would have her man and her Tony. So no one was surprised when she appeared in front of them in a gorgeous floor-length gown, her hair swept back from her face, but not pulled up all the way, looking more amazing than ever. A little breathless, sure, but not surprised. And when she looked out on the crowd, taking in the few faces of the people she loved, the several faces of people she was familiar with, and the many more faces that she wasn't quite sure she had ever even seen before, Rachel's eyes filled with tears. Happy ones, of course. But as she opened her mouth to voice her acceptance of, basically, everything she had ever wanted, she couldn't help but think back to all the times she feared this would never happen, in spite of all her big talk to the contrary. But even when she doubted herself, there was one person who never did.

_**When I first saw you standing there  
>You know, it was a little hard not to stare<br>So nervous when I drove you home  
>I know being apart's a little hard to bear.<strong>_

So he was late for glee. Big deal. It's not like it was anything new, and it just meant he got to skip out on Mr. Schue's big goofy speech and get straight to the singing. 'Cause while he didn't say it very often, he really enjoyed that part. Think about it, what says 'badass' better than 'rock star?' Only today, apparently it was a big deal, because when he opened the auditorium door, it wasn't Mr. Schue giving a speech, it was Finn. And by the way the rest of the glee club, including Schuester, sat in their seats and stared, silent and motionless, Puck figured it was kind of important. And if something important was coming from Finnessa, then it must be _really _important. So instead of just strutting in and announcing his presence as he would normally do, he just stood in the doorway and watched the show.

"God Rachel, I mean, when are you going to get it?" _Wait, was he seriously yelling at Rachel? Like, the same Rachel who forgave him for giving up on her, twice? The Rachel who bent over backward to make him happy?_ "You just act like you're so much better than the rest of us!" _Well, yeah, 'cause she is. _"And you keep expecting me to do all this … this crap, like bringing up my grades, and New York! You know I can't really do that stuff, and it's not fair to push me like this!" _It's called believing in you, asshole._ "I … I can't do this anymore. I'm out." _Ok, he did not just break up with Rachel Fuckin' Berry. And she is not just standing there listening to it all with those eyes all big and unfocused and not saying a word._ "And by the way," _seriously dude, you were already halfway off the stage, just keep going,_ "go get some big-girl clothes. You look ridiculous." _Ok, that's it. She looks awesome, like, all the time. Screw this 'waiting-in-the-wings' bullshit. Time to step up._

Only his legs wouldn't move quite as quickly as he wanted them to, and by the time he reached the base of the stage, Finn was gone, along with most of the glee club. Mr. Schue hadn't even bothered dismissing them, they just all assumed that the show would _not_ go on after what they had just witnessed. When he finally laid his foot on the first of the few steps leading up onto the stage, the only people remaining in the room besides Rachel and himself were Mercedes, Brittany, and Tina. The three girls were standing on the floor, staring up at Rachel and asking her, for the third time, if she was sure she would be ok without them. She nodded and waved them away, insisting that she was just fine. If he had been shocked by Finn's outburst before, he was even more shocked now. Rachel hadn't shed the first tear. Not when Finn was screaming at her, not when all her so-called friends were bailing on her, and not when her real friends were basically begging her to let them stay and help her.

"Hey Berry," he lowered his voice and spoke as softly as he could while still making himself heard. He wasn't quite sure how, but apparently his entire trek from the back of the auditorium to the front had gone unnoticed. He didn't want to scare her.

"Noah." Her voice wasn't sad. It wasn't angry. It wasn't anything; it wasn't even Rachel. "Since you're already on the stage and I know you didn't just materialize out of nowhere, you must have heard what I just said to the girls. I'm fine. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself. No need to worry about me. You can go now."

"Need a ride home?" He knew Rachel. He knew her probably better than anyone in their little club, or in the whole stupid school. Even better than Jerk-Off Hudson (_yeah, definitely better than him_). When she said "no," she meant "no." So he knew there was no point in arguing with her, in trying to get her to confide in him or some shit. But he also knew that she had no ride home (he saw her getting out of Finn's truck that morning) and he wasn't about to just leave her alone. She must have realized the same thing, because for the first time since he had opened the auditorium door, she blinked and moved from the spot he almost convinced himself she was glued to.

"That would be lovely Noah. Thank you." Puck almost choked on his tongue. Only Rachel Berry could manage to use the word 'lovely' under the current circumstances. He jumped off the stage and turned, extending a hand to her to help her down after him. She smoothed her skirt under her thighs then sat on the edge of the stage, her legs dangling so that she looked like a vulnerable little girl. He decided that wasn't so far from the truth as he rested his hands on her hips and lifted her gently off the stage and onto the floor. He walked to the middle seat in the front row and picked up her backpack, turning and leaving the large room as she followed a few steps behind him.

Puck didn't say a word on the ride to Rachel's house. He didn't want to push her, to pressure her into anything she didn't want, so he decided that if she wanted to talk about it she would. Rachel Berry wasn't exactly known for keeping things bottled up. They managed to make it all the way from the school auditorium to Rachel's driveway without a word between them. "Want some company?" It was a little late to ask, since he had already turned off the ignition and stuffed the keys into his pocket. Again she said nothing, only nodding slowly. It must have been some kind of record or something_._ And even after verifying that, yes, she would like him to stay with her, she made no move to get out of the truck. Any other time he would swear she was trying to teach him some lesson in the dead art of chivalry or some shit like that. This time, he just left his seat and walked around the truck to open her door and lead her toward her own home.

He was shocked for what felt like the thousandth time that day when instead of digging her house keys out of her purse when they reached the door, she spun on her heel and dropped to the porch, resting her feet on the second step down. He decided at the beginning of all this that he would follow her lead, so he took a deep breath and sat down beside her, resting his forearms on his thighs and tangling his fingers together between his knees. They sat on her porch, her staring at her front yard and him stealing glances at her out of the corner of his eye, for what seemed like ages but was probably four or five minutes. Finally, he felt her shoulder brush against his as her body shuddered and he heard her breath go ragged. Puck still didn't speak when he lifted the arm closest to her and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her body tight against his.

Puck sat on Rachel's front porch, holding her tight and rubbing her arm every time a new sob wracked her body, for almost two hours. When she finally stood, causing his arm to drop to the cool wood of the porch, the sun was starting to set. He didn't mind. He would have been a grade-A douchebag to leave her alone at a time like that. Still without a word, she turned toward the house, brushing his shoulder with her fingertips as she walked to the front door. Once she was inside and he heard the deadbolt click, Puck lifted himself off the porch and dragged his body to the truck, as exhausted as if he had been the one crying for the past two hours.

_**Sent some flowers to your work in hopes  
>That I'd have you in my arms again<br>We kissed that night before I left  
>Still now it was something<br>I can never forget**_

It had been three weeks. Three fucking weeks of Rachel Berry wearing blue jeans and not saying a word in glee that wasn't a direct response to a question. Three weeks of her avoiding eye contact with nearly everyone. Three weeks of Finn acting like nothing had happened and laughing and talking with anyone who would listen (although, to be fair, there were a few less of those people now in glee – not many, but a few). One day, he thought things were finally starting to turn around, to get a little more normal. About five minutes into glee, Rachel raised her hand in that prim little way she liked to do. Mr. Schue hadn't asked her a question or anything, she just raised her hand. Unconsciously, Puck leaned forward a little in his seat. "Mr. Schuester, I don't feel well. May I be excused?" _Damn_. She hadn't specified what not feeling well meant, but she didn't take her backpack, so he thought it was just a trip to the restroom, or maybe the nurse's office, but she never returned. And when glee was over, he watched Mercedes grab Rachel's things and head to her car, where Rachel was waiting.

This shit had to end, like, yesterday. Puck didn't know why it bothered him so much. Ok, so he knew, but he didn't like to admit it. Amazingly, once Rachel and Finn had gotten back together at nationals almost nine months before, he and Rachel had stayed friends. He expected her to back off, to stop talking to him because of, well, their _past_. But she didn't. And if Finn ever asked her to, he didn't know about it. So yeah, they were friends, and that was why he didn't like this moping around bullshit. Only that wasn't why, and he knew it. They weren't just friends. Not on his end anyway. But as long as she had been his best friend's girl, that didn't matter. And she had wanted to be friends, and she was a pretty great one, so he figured it was best just to let it go. But his best friend screwed up. Big time. And now she wasn't his best friend's girl anymore. And to be honest, Finn wasn't his best friend anymore either. So all bets were off.

So when Puck walked into the flower shop, he didn't hesitate to slam down a hundred and tell the sweet middle-aged woman behind the counter to use her own judgment, giving her very few specifications. ("Make it … happy. And I better not see a single damn daisy or tulip.") And when he showed up to glee the next day, before everyone else (so yeah, maybe there really was a first time for everything), he was pleased to see that she didn't disappoint. The arrangement was huge, and filled mostly with these lilies that reminded him of stars, and therefore reminded him of Rachel. He'd have to keep that in mind for prom and her birthday (_wait, what?)._ He also wasn't disappointed by the reactions of his teammates. Kurt, Mercedes, and Brittany sighed dreamily and whispered words like 'romantic' and 'so sweet.' The guys all stared at each other, a little bit horrified and a little bit accusing. They weren't happy that some jerk had gone and raised the bar for all the rest of them. (_But then, when didn't the Puckerone raise the bar?) _Santana and Quinn just looked pissed, knowing that the flowers weren't for them and ready to say horrible things about whomever they were for. And Rachel, Rachel just stared. The look in her eyes wasn't one of expectation or even hope, simply admiration. She was looking at a beautiful piece of art, not a gift that might possibly be meant for her.

"Nice going Mr. Schue," it took Mercedes's voice for Puck to even realize their teacher had entered the room. He had to snicker in spite of himself when he saw the confusion on Schue's face before he noticed that Mercedes was pointing at the flowers atop the piano. "So Mr. S, who is it this time? Miss Holiday or Miss P? Or maybe somebody new …"

Mr. Schuester shook his head at his eager students. "Ok guys. Calm down, I already told you, Miss Holiday and I are friends. Besides, she took a permanent job in Cincinnati and she loves it there. And as far as …" his voice trailed off as he fumbled gently through the flowers to find the card, "Oh." He almost sounded disappointed. "Rachel, looks like these are for you. We didn't miss your birthday did we?" Rachel looked dumbfounded. She couldn't speak, so she just shook her head at her teacher and continued to stare at the flowers. Only now, Puck noticed, satisfied, there was something a bit more than just admiration in her gaze. "Well, here's the card. They're beautiful." She stood and accepted the sealed envelope from her teacher, refusing to meet his gaze. All eyes were on Rachel as she returned to her seat and opened the envelope, scanning the card but saying nothing.

Finally, Kurt couldn't take it anymore. "Well Barbra, who are they from? You don't have a secret boyfriend you're hiding from us or something do you?" Santana snorted and Mercedes sent her a death glare. Kurt continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Give us the dirt."

"There's no name." Rachel wasn't lying. Puck had left his name off the card, leaving instead a short message that he hoped would be enough to cheer her up even a little (and to prove that it wasn't creepy Jacob Ben Israel sending the flowers, he wasn't trying to scare her, after all).

It took a good five minutes for Mr. Schuester to gain control of the group and get them started on some new numbers he wanted to try out for regionals the next month. Keeping an eye on Rachel, hoping for any sign that he had accomplished just a little bit of what he had set out to do, Puck was happy to see that the card never left her hands unless she was asked to dance, and since they were working mostly on a song for the guys, that wasn't often. When rehearsal was over and the only people left were Rachel, Kurt, and himself, Puck made a big show of putting away his guitar so that he could stick around a little longer and keep an eye on Rachel. He wanted to laugh when Kurt told her that the only way the flowers would fit in his Escalade was if they went in the back and Rachel said she would sit back there with them. Kurt argued with her for a minute, trying to appeal to her sense of propriety by pointing out that doing so was most definitely against the law, but she would have none of it. Finally giving up, Kurt left to pull his car around to the back entrance of the school so that they wouldn't have to carry the arrangement, which Puck admitted was almost as big as Rachel, all the way to Kurt's normal spot. Once she was alone (Puck had moved to stand just outside the door, realizing that he could have put away five guitars by now), Rachel pulled the card from the envelope again, running her fingers along the words as she read them.

_Rachel,  
>You have to know, you're amazing. You ARE better than everyone else here. You're the most talented person I've ever seen or heard. If you didn't believe in everyone and push the way you do, there would be no glee club. And you're beautiful, always. Big-girl clothes are overrated.<em>

Puck slipped away, heading toward his own truck, when he saw Kurt re-enter the building. As he did so, he could have sworn he saw the tiniest smile on Rachel's lips.

When he rounded the corner to head to first period the next morning, the first, and only, thing Puck noticed was legs. Rachel Berry's legs, to be exact. Rachel Berry's legs with no denim, just a tiny pink skirt and white knee socks with green polka dots. _Hallelujah._ And after the legs (a while after, 'cause yeah, it was hard to stop looking at those legs), he noticed the smile. It was a real smile, one that took up her whole face. He didn't mind that it was directed at Brittany instead of him; he was just happy that it was there. Once he had passed the two girls, Puck heard the laugh, that laugh that for the past several months had given him dragonflies in his stomach (dudes so don't get butterflies, and besides, whatever these things were, they were way bigger than butterflies). It was ok that she hadn't acknowledged that the flowers came from him, that maybe she didn't even know, because she was laughing and wearing skirts, and just being _Rachel_ again.

"Noah?" His head shot up from the guitar case and he scanned the room. He thought he was alone; he knew for a fact that Kurt and Brittany, Rachel's normal rides, were already gone for the day. He didn't know what she wanted, so he didn't say anything, afraid of spooking her. He simply continued to kneel in front of the guitar case and looked over his shoulder at her, lifting one eyebrow. "Give me a ride home?" She extended a small hand to him, and without even closing the case, he took it and walked her to his truck to give her what she had asked for.

"Thank you." He turned to look at her, but all he could see was the top of her head. They had managed to find themselves right back on her front porch, watching the sun set over the field across the street. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and it was the first time she had spoken since they left the school. (Man, she was getting really good at this whole quiet thing. He wasn't sure he liked it.)

"Was just a ride, Berry. No big." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer to him, realizing that her skin was cool in the night air.

"You know that's not what I meant," she turned her head to rest her chin on his shoulder and look up at him. "I was … and you were …" she sighed and started over, "They're beautiful Noah, thank you."

He didn't know why he felt the urge to deny it. Old habits die hard, he guessed. "What makes you think …" But he didn't get any farther than that. Her chin was still on his shoulder – lightly though, not digging in, leave it to Rachel to be considerate even now – and when he turned his head again to look at her as he spoke, his face was so close to hers that all he could see were her eyes. And when he looked into those eyes, beautiful and warm, he saw something he hadn't seen in over three weeks, and for the first time in those three weeks, he didn't want to kill Finn. In fact, Finn was probably the farthest thing from his mind. All other thoughts were replaced by thoughts of those eyes, and then her nose, and finally, her lips. And once her lips were in his mind, he just had to have them.

It took less than a second for her to start kissing him back, and in that kiss, he suddenly knew why she insisted on calling him 'Noah' and not 'Puck.' Because with her, at that moment, Puck didn't exist. He _was_ Noah; the guy who wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, to make sure that no one – not Finn, not Quinn, not Santana, _no one_ – made her cry again. (And don't be mistaken, Noah was also a badass, and he _would_ protect her, whatever it took.) Mostly, Noah was the guy who wanted to make her proud of him. He felt her start to pull away, and although he could feel his own lungs burning from lack of oxygen, he followed her, trying to maintain the contact as long as possible. He finally let her break the kiss when he felt the warmth of her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. She laid her head on his shoulder and nuzzled her nose into his neck so that her breath tickled over his Adam's apple when she spoke.

"Give me a ride to school in the morning?" He must have not regained all his breath yet (that's how he explained it to himself), because he couldn't find the words to answer her question. Instead he pulled her body as close to his as he could and used the index finger of his free hand to trace a circle over her knee as he nodded his consent. There must have been a sudden breeze (it had to be the wind) because he felt a chill move down his spine when she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his neck just before standing and walking to her front door. "I'll see you in the morning then. Thank you. Good night, Noah."

_**You've got all that I need  
>Looking at all or nothing<br>Babe it's you and I  
>With you I know that<br>I'm good for something  
>So let's go on give it a try<br>We've got our backs against the ocean  
>It's just us against the world<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<strong>_

It took six weeks, 42 whole fucking days, of asking and pleading and, well, not begging, because the Puckasaurus didn't beg (turns out being around Rachel didn't erase Puck completely, just pushed him aside to make more room for Noah), but, yeah, ok, begging. Every day since that kiss on her porch he had asked her out. And every day she had denied him, saying that she couldn't because he was her best friend and that was something she just couldn't risk. That always earned her a snort and a smirk and an, "I ain't your best friend Berry. (Kurt/Mercedes/Brittany/Tina – depending on the day) is your best friend. I'm nobody's best friend, I suck at being a friend, remember?" She would only give him this little smile, like she knew something he didn't know, while running her hand down his bicep and occasionally even pushing up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. Shit was getting old. Yeah, ok, so the frequent touching and the occasional kissing made his skin feel like it was on fire, but Puck wasn't the kind of guy to sit around waiting six weeks for one girl. Every morning when he woke up he told himself that was it; that was where it stopped. But he still drove her to school at least three times a week (and no, it really wasn't out of the way for Brittany, but every time he heard Kurt say something about not being able to make it, he jumped on it before anyone else had a chance – and it seemed that Kurt was "unavailable" a lot lately), and no matter how many times he instructed himself to do otherwise, he still ended up at her locker, or in the cafeteria, or even in the choir room (with Finn looking at them both like he was about to throw up) asking her out.

So on day 43, while he scrubbed the shampoo into his short hair a little more forcefully than was necessary, he swore to himself that today, it would not happen. He would _not_ ask out Rachel Berry. That girl had had his balls for too long, and he was getting absolutely nothing out of it. Ok, not nothing; he was getting someone to talk to, someone who really listened and who actually cared about what he thought and felt, and those fiery little touches and pecks on the cheek. But that just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough contact, it wasn't enough of a relationship, it wasn't enough _Rachel._ So as he drove, he chanted in his head over and over again, "Not today, Puckerman, not today." And when he got to the stop sign at the end of her street, he actually said it aloud and pounded it out on the steering wheel. But then he pulled into her drive, and before he even got the truck into 'park' she was bounding out the front door, a smile on her face and her hair in these curls that bounced every time she moved. She turned to lock the door behind her, and all he saw were those curls, then the curve of her back going into her ass under that black skirt, and finally her legs. And spring was coming, and it was getting warmer, and today there were no socks or legwarmers or anything to hide the smooth skin all the way from the middle of her thigh to her ankle, and apparently it was spring in his stomach too, because those dragonflies were suddenly very active. Then she looked at him, and when their eyes connected, even through the glass of the windshield, the dragonflies suddenly morphed into hummingbirds. Hell, maybe even robins for that matter.

Puck couldn't just sit there. It seemed that the walk from her front door to his truck was a mile long, and he just couldn't wait that long. He jumped out of the truck and walked as quickly as he could without actually running ('cause that would so not be badass), reaching the base of the steps just as she stepped on the bottom one. That was actually kind of perfect timing, because she was basically at his eye level and neither of them had to crane their necks to see the other. "What are you doing Noah?" she looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to the side and her eyes wide.

"I know every day I say I'm not your best friend. And I still stand by that. I really am too much of an asshole to be anyone's best friend. But, see, you _are_ my best friend. You listen to me, and you believe in me, and when I'm with you I feel like I'm actually good for something, like I'm not a Lima loser. You make me feel like I can do anything, like _we_ can do anything. I can't lose that, Rach. I can't give that up. For months now, I've stood aside and watched, first while you were with Finn, then while you were … _broken_ by Finn," he spat the word, his hand balling into a fist momentarily at his side, "and now as your best friend, apparently. And if that's what you want, I'll try to keep doing that. I could never just, turn my back on you. But you gotta know how hard this is for me. Like, I kinda feel like it's all or nothing here. So yeah, I'll keep trying to be your friend, but part of me, a really big part, feels like if I'm not getting all of you, and I don't mean physically, but I think you know that, then I'm not really getting anything. I want it all, Rachel. And God I know how selfish that sounds, but I can't help it. When it comes to you, I am fucking selfish. So, I want to stand here right now and tell you, for the sake of my pride, that if you turn me down today I'll stop asking. But I can't say that, because I've been saying it to myself for the past six weeks, and look how _that_ turned out. But just in case I get my balls back out of your purse sometime soon, I had to say all this. You had to know before my pride finally gets so bruised that I just stop trying and you never get to hear it." _Where the hell did that come from?_ It wasn't as if he had rehearsed the speech, or even planned to give a speech at all, for that matter. But his feet and his mouth just kind of took over, and here he was.

"All or nothing, huh?" He couldn't read her expression, at all, and that scared the shit out of him.

"No Rachel, please, don't take that the wrong way. I didn't mean … I'm not giving you an ultimatum here. That's not what this is. I'm just saying-," He didn't get to finish because she cut him off.

"All."

"Huh?" Eloquent, Puckerman.

"If it's all or nothing, I choose all." She didn't know what she was doing to him. She couldn't, because she was just standing there smiling all sweet like she didn't have his whole heart in her hands right now. He swallowed hard before he could speak again.

"Yeah?"

"Of course." She was still smiling that sweet Rachel smile and all he could do was lift his hands to her face and pull her to him to press his lips to hers. It wasn't the first time he had kissed Rachel Berry, but it was the first time he had kissed _his_ Rachel Berry. He held onto her as long as he could, not wanting to let the feeling slip away. "Noah," he finally had to let her go or they may have both ended up passed out on her front lawn.

"Yeah babe?" He sucked in deep breaths and rested his forehead against hers, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs.

"We're going to be late for school." Her words and her voice were firm, but her eyes sparkled.

"Right." He leaned forward to kiss her again, resisting the urge to slide his tongue along her bottom lip, knowing that would only lead to them being even later. "Let's go babe." He took her backpack from her with one hand and closed the other over her own much smaller hand.

_**Let's take a chance go far away today  
>And never look back again<br>Since I said I loved you in Las Vegas  
>It's never been the same since then<strong>_

Whoever organized that year's nationals was an idiot. Really, who plans a high school show choir competition, a high school _anything_, in Vegas? All Puck could think was that it was really good for his criminal record and his mom's sanity that he now had this awesome little angel over his shoulder, or on his lap, as the case may be. He just wanted Mr. Schuester to get on with his little speech so they could get on with their day. Yeah, Schue was cool as far as teachers went, but his idea of a great day consisted of a bit more than hanging out in his teacher's hotel room all day and talking about, well, whatever it was he was talking about. Ok, so Puck had kind of spaced out like, five minutes into the speech. That was about the time that one of the new kids had made the mistake of looking at Santana, which had sent her flying across the room to share a chair with Brittany, effectively evicting Rachel, who had ended up perched primly on his knee. Only after about another five minutes, she didn't look so prim, and she certainly wasn't on his knee.

"You nervous?" He whispered in her ear, but he was pretty sure no one would have noticed even if he had spoken in his normal voice. The freshmen were too caught up in whatever it was Mr. Schue was talking about (_what exactly was a crescendo again?_) and all the rest were either sleeping or having their own private conversations. No one cared about him and Rachel. Well, almost no one. He couldn't help but occasionally notice the glares Finn kept sending his way (technically the glares were being sent _their_ way, but Puck was nearly positive they weren't meant for Rachel).

Rachel shook her head, looking back at him and smiling in a way that took away any trace of nerves in his own body. "I was born to perform Noah." He chuckled lightly. Of course she was.

"I know that babe, and you're gonna _kill,_" he pulled her a little closer and tilted his head so that his lips brushed her ear when he spoke. "S'not what I meant. It's just, this is our last ever glee club performance. After this we're not 'New Directions' anymore, we're all on our own."

"I'm not. And neither are you." Neither of them moved, so he couldn't actually see her face, but he just knew she was smiling. She always did when anyone mentioned the two of them going to New York in the fall. Six months ago he would have sworn it was by an act of God that he had gotten into even the smallest of schools in the city, but now he knew it was an act of Rachel. Even before they had started dating, she was the reason that he cared about himself, the reason that he tried at anything.

"Too bad the rest of these bastards aren't as lucky as us, right? _No one's_ as lucky as me." He smirked and kissed her cheek, just in front of her ear, and he could feel the warmth radiating off her face. She was blushing; it was cute. "Ya know, all due respect, 'cause I know New York is like, _your city_ and everything, but this year is so much better than last year."

"Duh," she giggled. Apparently he was rubbing off on her, too. But yeah, he was right. This year was better for a lot of reasons. It was their last year, they had already made it into the top 10 and would soon be competing for the judges again to determine their final rank, but most of all it was better because Rachel was his. The previous year she had been maybe-Jesse's, then no one's, then kinda-Finn's. But now she was his, and nothing could top that. "But you're still looking forward to New York, right?" He knew how much she tried to hide it, but he still heard the hint of worry in her voice.

"See Rach, here's the thing," he almost didn't say anything, because he thought for sure Schue would have to be winding down sometime soon, but that didn't seem to be the case. "You're running toward something, ya know? You're running toward Julliard, and Broadway, and Tonys. But I feel like I'm running away; away from Lima, and my dad, and all the stupid things I've done in the past. But you know what the weirdest thing about that is?" _Ok, the weirdest thing about this conversation is that we're having it in a room full of people, and none of them even have a clue. S'probably the best thing about being with Rachel, she makes me forget anyone else even exists._ He could feel her head shaking across his shoulder. She had gotten quiet (ok, she'd been quiet this whole time, but this was a different kind of quiet, a tense quiet) and he didn't like that. "I don't care, Rach. For the first time in my life, it doesn't bother me to be running away. Because it's not like I'm running away from a challenge or from some idiot at school, I'm running away _with you._ And that's probably the best thing I've ever done." Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. He hoped Mr. Schue talked forever.

Unfortunately, Mr. Schue couldn't talk forever. After about 15 more minutes of 'pep-talking' (during which even the newbies finally started spacing out), Schue ushered the entire club out of the hotel and up the three blocks to the theatre. Puck barely remembered the performance once it was over. What he did remember was the way Rachel looked in that dark blue dress, and the way even when she was singing her duet with Finn, she was looking at Puck over his shoulder. So nearly two hours later, when they were standing on the stage with the other two remaining teams (_top three, fuck yeah!), _he could only assume that the rest of them must have done (almost) as well as Rachel. And when the judges announced that they were, in fact, the winners of the 2012 National Show Choir competition, he pounced on her. The words were barely out of the announcer's mouth and he had his arms around her waist and his face buried in her hair. Less than a second later they were surrounded by their teammates, resulting in one very large group hug, but thanks to the size difference between them, his body basically enveloped hers and he had her all to himself. Forgetting that they were in the middle of a stage surrounded by their friends and being watched by an audience (seriously, he had tunnel vision every time he was with her), he lifted her off the ground and pulled his face out of her hair just enough to be able to look in her eyes. "I love you." She only smiled and nuzzled her nose against his then buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. He didn't hear her, but he felt her hot tears and he felt her mouth forming the words across his collarbone, and he knew.

_**You've got all that I need  
>Looking at all or nothing<br>Babe it's you and I  
>With you I know<br>That I'm good for something  
>So let's go on give it a try<br>We've got our backs against the ocean  
>It's just us against the world<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<strong>_

"You regret it?" They had done it. Puck and Rachel had made it to New York, and now it was just the two of them. They had seen her dads and his mom and sister into a cab outside of Rachel's dorm a couple of hours before, and now they stood, his arms locked around her waist and his chin resting atop her head, staring at that same fountain where they had danced around and made fools of themselves little over a year before.

"Nope."

"Not even a little?" Rachel tilted her head up and twisted slightly to watch his expression. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and lowered his eyes to meet hers.

"Not even at all." It was the truth. There wasn't one thing about this situation that he regretted. There were parts of it that he didn't fully understand; he still held his breath a little every time he got his mail, expecting a letter saying that the college had made a mistake and they didn't really want him, but nothing that he regretted. If anything, he now had everything he had ever wanted. He wasn't going to be a Lima loser, and he certainly wasn't going to become his father. But more importantly, he had the person who had given him all these things, who had helped him realize he could actually do this. It was hard for him to remember a time before Rachel, maybe because there almost wasn't a time before Rachel. Even before he got it together enough to make her his girlfriend, she had been his best friend for quite some time. And now he was going to make it his goal to make sure there wasn't a time _after_ Rachel either. He didn't expect it to be easy; nothing with Rachel (or him, for that matter) was ever easy. But he did expect it to work. Because no matter what, she was on his side, and even when it felt like it was them against the world, there was no side he would rather be on.

_**This is it  
>Nothing to hide<br>One more kiss  
>Never say goodbye<br>This is it  
>Baby you're all mine<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>I know that I'm good for something  
>So let's go on give it a try<br>We've got our backs against the ocean  
>It's just us against the world<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>With you I know that I'm good for something  
>So let's go on give it a try<strong>_

Yeah, Rachel Berry was an "all or nothing" kind of girl. But then, Noah Puckerman had always been an "all or nothing'" kind of guy. It was all or nothing when it came to playing football and the guitar. It was all or nothing when it came to getting out of Ohio and not becoming a Lima loser. And it was all or nothing when it came to Rachel Berry, which many people said made him completely nuts. But Puck didn't believe that; he knew that beneath all the crazy, Rachel was the best person he'd ever known. So no one was surprised when he stood in front of them looking quite dapper in a perfectly fitted tuxedo with a soft yellow tie. And when he looked past the crowd, barely noticing the few faces of the people he loved, the several faces of people he was familiar with, and the many more faces that he absolutely knew he had never even seen before (there were a lot of people who loved Rachel, he couldn't expect to know them all), Puck's eyes filled with tears. Happy ones, of course. But as he watched her emerge, walking straight toward him and looking absolutely breathtaking in her floor-length white gown, he couldn't help but think back to all the times he feared this would never happen, in spite of all his big talk about being badass and not needing all this noise. But even when he doubted himself, there was one person who never did.

_**We've got our backs against the ocean  
>It's just us against the world<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>Looking at all or nothing  
>Babe it's you and I<br>Babe it's you and I**_

**Ok, first of all, I have to say a HUGE thank you to Tashana Ambrosia, because if it weren't for her, I would still be banging my head against a wall on this story. **

**Secondly, I apologize that this update took a bit longer than normal. For those of you who haven't looked at my profile (not that I expect you to; I know you only come to me to get your Puckleberry fix ;) ), I am a teacher, and we start back to school tomorrow. That means that the stories will probably be slower from this point on. I am shooting for once a week, probably starting next weekend (not this one, got WAY too much going on). I am not telling you all this to discourage you. If anything, I am telling you in hopes that you will stick with me and not give up on my story now that the stories won't be coming every day or two. I still have a lot in my head that I want to share! Thanks for staying with me up to this point.**


	7. Cowboy Cassanova

**Cowboy Casanova – Carrie Underwood**

"_**You better take it from me,  
>That boy is like a disease," <strong>_Rachel gripped her roommate's shoulder and stared at her sternly, trying to get her point across. Because her eyes never left Katie's face, it was impossible to miss the way the blonde's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Wait … he, he has a …?"

Kurt huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes, shooting Rachel a quick look. He knew, because he'd heard the actual words so many times, that her look back at him said, _"I can't help it if my roommate is a clueless bimbo."_ He ignored her and quickly waved his hands in front of his chest, trying to signal to Katie that she had misunderstood. "No sweetie. He doesn't _have_ a disease. Rachel said he _is_ disease. As in, he'll do bad things to you and you'll feel awful afterward." Kurt sent a scolding look in Rachel's direction, but she only rolled her eyes and shrugged.

Rachel wasn't exactly sure why Kurt had been giving her dirty looks ever since she had started trying to talk Katie down. It wasn't her fault that the girl had turned off her brain and turned on her hormones, as usual. As soon as this ridiculous business was settled, she would have to have a talk with him about being a good friend and supporting her when she was so obviously right. Really, why she should be further punished for electronically drawing the short straw from the roommate pool?

_**You're runnin, you're tryin', you're trying to hide  
>And you're wondering why you can't get free<br>He's like a curse he's like a drug.  
>You get addicted to his love.<br>You wanna get out but he's holding you down  
>'Cause you can't live without one more touch. <strong>_

Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine had decided that since they were all going back home for Thanksgiving, it made a lot more sense to drive there in Rachel's little hybrid than to spend all that money to fly. Besides, if they were all going, the 10-hour drive would feel much more like a road trip and much less like a chore. So when Rachel had found out in September, before she knew how vapid her roommate truly was, that Katie's parents weren't exactly the 'family time' type and had planned a trip to Europe for the holidays, Rachel immediately invited Katie along for the trip. She was very much regretting that now.

"I don't understand Rachel. He's just so … yummy." Katie giggled and stared over her shoulder at the bar's stage, still watching the mohawked man strumming out stray notes on his guitar. By that point, Rachel was annoyed with everyone and everything in her life. She had told Kurt and Blaine, she had warned them! It was a bad idea to go to a bar underage, even if Mercedes's oldest brother did run it and promised to let them in and watch their backs as long as they were on their best behavior. And Rachel was right. If they had just stayed home and watched movies like she suggested, she wouldn't be running interference between her new roommate and her former nemesis. This was not the way she wanted to spend the weekend before Thanksgiving, her first weekend back in Lima since she had left for school in August.

"Katie." Rachel cupped the girl's chin in her hand and snapped her fingers in front of her face. "_Katie!_" She finally gave Rachel at least part of her attention. "Let me explain this to you. Puck," Rachel rolled her eyes at the confused look on her roommate's face, "guitar guy," she sighed as Katie smiled and nodded, "is not a nice guy. He's not what you want. All the girls think he's great at first. Sure, he looks great, and he's got some great lines, but before you know it, you'll be miserable and all you'll want is to get away from him but you won't be able to because you'll be … addicted." Rachel stopped talking and sucked in a deep breath. Kurt stared at her, a little wide-eyed, as she tried to regain her composure.

"Come on Rach," Katie's voice was starting to put Rachel on edge.

Rachel gritted her teeth and gripped the back of Blaine's chair to look across the table to where Katie and Kurt sat. She hadn't even been able to sit yet because she was working so hard to save her roommate from the disaster that was inevitable if she went after Puck.

"We're only in town for a week," Rachel braced herself as Katie continued. "I don't really think you need to worry about me getting 'addicted.'" Yeah, _now_ she uses the air quotes correctly. "How bad could it be?"

Rachel scoffed so violently that she almost snorted, this girl had no idea how bad it would be, and looked to Kurt for back-up. The only problem was, Kurt was looking at her as if she had just grown an extra head or something. His eyes were wide and his jaw was almost on the floor. He almost looked … _offended_ … by what she was saying about Puck. Well, that was fine. She was already convincing Katie to stay away from Puck, it wouldn't be any harder to convince Kurt that Katie should stay away from Puck. "Alright Katie, you really want me to spell it out for you?" Katie lifted one eyebrow and pursed her lips, almost making Rachel want to give up her plan and drag Katie home by her hair. "Well, for the first two years of our high school career, he spent his days alternating between throwing Kurt in the school's dumpsters," she looked at Kurt sympathetically to see that he looked only slightly less annoyed with her, "and throwing slushies at me. If you'd like, I'll show you my collection of stained sweaters and training bras when we get home." She saw the look Katie was giving Kurt and Blaine. "No Katie, I don't _really_ have a collection. I didn't keep them. I was being sarcastic to prove a point."

Katie's shoulders heaved as she breathed a sigh of relief. She liked Rachel, and she was a great roommate, quite the mom-type, but sometimes she just needed to let go. It wouldn't have surprised her all that much if Rachel really did have those things from high school. "Rachel, I get it, he's not the nicest guy, not the boyfriend type."

Rachel gritted her teeth again (this vacation was going to cost her a trip to the dentist) and dropped into the chair beside Blaine. In addition to Katie's apparent obsession with Puck, Rachel was now also starting to get annoyed with her refusal to listen. They had only been roommates for a few months so far, but already Rachel had saved this girl more times than she could count. It made absolutely no sense that she wouldn't listen when it was obvious that Rachel knew better than her.

"But I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I'm just looking for … a _good time._ And _he_" Katie smirked and nodded her head toward Puck, "looks like he really knows how to show a girl a good time." Katie looked back toward the stage just quickly enough to miss the way Rachel gripped the tabletop until her knuckles were white.

_**He's a good time cowboy Casanova  
>Leaning up against the record machine<br>He looks like a cool drink of water  
>But he's candy coated misery<br>He's the devil in disguise, a snake with blue eyes  
>And he only comes out at night<br>Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight  
>You better run for your life<strong>_

"What's up everybody?" The typical bar sounds – talking, loud laughter, glasses and bottles clanking – quieted as nearly everyone in the crowd turned their attention to the stage. Even if he hadn't been speaking into a microphone that allowed his voice to override all the music that was previously being pumped through the bar, Puck's presence demanded attention. He stood in the middle of the small stage, and though he spoke into the microphone, his hands didn't touch the stand or the microphone itself. Instead, they were shoved casually into his pockets and his guitar strap ran over one shoulder and under the other arm so that his guitar was slung diagonally across his back. His height required him to slouch and duck his head slightly in order to speak into the microphone, but it didn't seem forced or uncomfortable. On him, the stance just looked natural. "Got some bad news for any of you who showed up tonight to see the band. They ditched me." He smirked at the chorus of groans and 'awwws' that met his statement. "Yeah I know. They suck. Anyway, as awesome and badass as I am, I don't think any of you want to listen to me stand up here and play an entire acoustic set all by my lonesome for the next two hours. That would be kind of a buzzkill." His smirk grew and his eyes twinkled when the groans and protests grew even louder. This was it – this was what he was meant for. Puck had never been more in his element than when he was on a stage, asshole band mates or no. "I'm not gonna leave ya completely high and dry. I do have one classic in my back pocket that, well, I'm pretty awesome at. A real crowd pleaser." Puck shot a wink, paired with a slightly lecherous smirk, in the direction of his old friends and their new friend before pulling his guitar in front of him and strumming his fingers over the strings once.

Rachel and Blaine had turned in their chairs to face the stage when Puck began speaking. Blaine turned back to face Kurt and Katie as soon as Puck's fingers touched the first guitar string, but Rachel kept her eyes trained on her former classmate. Katie, still hoping to convince her friend that there was nothing to worry about, placed one hand on Rachel's arm and the other on Kurt's before she squealed, "Did you see that? Did you see him wink at me?" Kurt patted her hand gently and spoke to her as he would to a 10-year-old, trying to tell her to back off without actually telling her.

Katie didn't seem to notice that Rachel still hadn't responded until she felt her friend's arm tense under her touch just as Puck played the opening notes of the song and began to sing. "Come on Rach. Don't be mad. I'm a big girl, I promise, I can take care of myself." Finally, Rachel turned to face her friends, a deep crimson covering every visible inch of skin from her collarbone to the top of her head.

Kurt eyed Rachel warily, hoping she wouldn't demand to leave the bar right that instant. Even he had to admit that Puck wasn't choosing the smartest route if he really did want to get with Katie that night, as Katie was so eager to believe. He knew Puck wasn't blind or stupid, especially when it came to arranging a hook-up, and he knew that Puck had noticed the attention Katie had been giving him. And Rachel was nowhere near subtle, so if Puck had noticed Katie, Kurt knew he had to have noticed the steam coming out of Rachel's ears as well.

If the blonde noticed the renewed determination on Rachel's face, she didn't let on. "You know, he said this song was a classic, but it can't be that great, because I've never even heard it before," Katie spoke to her friends, but her eyes never left the stage. "I mean, what does he consider a classic? Like, 10 years? Because that's just old."

Blaine threw an arm around Rachel's shoulders in what he hoped was a nonchalant attempt to keep her from coming out of her chair and across the table. "Are you serious?" Rachel screeched, keeping her voice down the best she could so as not to disturb any other patron's listening experience. "How do you not know 'Sweet Caroline?' It's Neil Diamond, a musical Jewish icon!"

"Umm, I'm not Jewish?" Wrong answer, Katie.

"Well, _he_," Rachel jerked her thumb toward the stage, "is. One more reason you should stay away from him. How would your sweet, Catholic mother feel?" Katie giggled in response.

"Yeah, Rach, I don't think I'll be telling my mom about any of this."

"And shouldn't that tell you something? I mean, if you're ashamed to tell your mother, and _believe me_, if you hooked up with Puck, you would have plenty to be ashamed about, then it's probably something you shouldn't be doing." The words came out in a rush, almost jumbled together. "And not only would you be ashamed, you would be hurt, broken. Let me say this again, nothing good will come out of you pursuing him. You will most definitely end up on the short side of this stick, and that's not something I want for you. Please just listen to me, Katie."

Katie sighed and let her shoulders drop in what appeared to be defeat for only a moment. "I have to go to the little girls' room. I'll be back." She seemed to recover quickly, and she shot each of her companions a smile and flounced to the restroom in the back of the bar.

"Geez!" Rachel erupted as soon as her roommate was out of earshot, slamming her hands on top of the table. "What will it take for her to just let it go already?" Before either of the boys had a chance to respond, she twisted her body slightly so that she could keep one eye on the stage.

"You know Rach," Kurt started, pushing away from the table a little so that he was out of her reach, "I'm not sure why you're so adamant about this. I mean, like Katie said, she's a big girl. If this is something she really wants, that's her choice." He decided that backing away had been a really good idea, because she seemed to have forgotten that the object of her loathing was on-stage behind her and she was currently shooting daggers at Kurt with her eyes. He figured she couldn't possibly get any more angry with him, so this was as good a time as any to move on to his next point. "And besides, I don't get why you're ragging so hard on Puck right now. I mean, I get that you guys have a troubled past, but if I can move on, then surely you can. I think that maybe you're being a little unfair to him. Will he and Katie be the loves of each other's lives? Probably not." He saw the anger on her face deepen more than he thought possible. "Ok, fine, definitely not. And yeah, this little 'Sweet Caroline' stunt was kind of low. But come on, he's not like, abusive or anything, he's not even really a man-whore anymore. And when Katie says she just wants a good time, I'm inclined to believe her."

Rachel opened her mouth to deliver her very well thought out, very long rebuttal to Kurt's argument, but she saw Katie heading back toward their table. "Like I've maintained Kurt, if she goes after Puck, very bad things will happen. She will regret it. Just trust me on this one," she said instead.

_**I see that look on your face  
>You ain't hearing what I say<br>So I'll say it again 'cause I've been where you've been  
>And I know how it ends, you can't get away<br>Don't even look in his eyes  
>He'll tell you nothing but lies<br>And you wanna believe, but you won't be deceived  
>If you listen to me and take my advice<strong>_

Once Katie returned to the table, Rachel didn't even give her a chance to _look_ at Puck before she started in again, naming off more of the evils that were Noah Puckerman. "Look, Katie, you know I'm just looking out for you." Rachel saw the wounded-puppy look on her friend's face as she continued. "I'm not trying to be mean or ruin your fun. You're my friend, and I worry about you."

"You know Rach, I know you like to think you're all miss perfect and everything," Katie started, a little louder than necessary, shocking Rachel so that her mouth snapped shut before she could say another word, "but this high and mighty bit is getting a little old. What about that time last month you disappeared on me for a whole weekend with no warning whatsoever?" Rachel started to defend herself, but Katie continued, cutting her off. "Yeah yeah," Katie waved her hand flippantly at Rachel and rolled her eyes, "mid-terms, studying, blah blah blah. But who rents a hotel for that? I would have been respectful of you if you had just talked to me about it. You know that." Katie watched as Rachel dropped her eyes and blushed. She reached across the table to place a hand over Rachel's. She really wasn't trying to make her feel bad. "But the point is, you scared me that time, and I worried about you too. This isn't a one-way street. We're friends. Equals. So just give me a break here, k?"

Rachel turned to look at her older friends for back-up, but apparently Kurt had slipped off to the restroom or somewhere at some point, because the only support she had was Blaine. Her eyes pleaded with him to say something, anything, to back her up. She didn't get much, though. Blaine was much better than Kurt at being objective, and instead of automatically taking Rachel's side just because she had been his friend longer than Katie had, he smirked back at her. They both knew that Katie had a point, but Rachel was nowhere near willing to admit that the two situations were even close to being the same. So she only huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, out of words for a few moments.

Rachel saw Kurt returning to the table and decided that it was time; she was going to have to pull out the big guns. And she knew that no matter how surprisingly Kurt had been acting in reference to her feelings about Katie wanting to go after Puck (_seriously, why was he not supporting her more?)_, he would have to back her up on this part. He couldn't deny the facts.

"Fine Katie. You know what, I didn't want to say this, because I don't want to just sound … _vindictive_, or _petty_ or whatever, but here goes. Sophomore year of high school? Puck got his best friend's girlfriend pregnant." Rachel heard Kurt gasp just a little. "And if I hadn't figured it out and revealed their betrayal, neither of them would have ever told the truth about the situation. Now how is that for a _good time_?" Rachel noted with satisfaction the way Katie's jaw dropped. "And then," Rachel continued, ready to drive the final nail into the coffin of Puck and Katie's potential union, "the next year, he turned around, after mostly making up with his friend, and made out with his friend's _new_ girlfriend, bringing an end to that relationship as well."

Rachel looked to Kurt smugly, expecting him to confirm everything she had just said. Instead, she saw shock on his face and could read in his eyes that he was only seconds away from calling her out for her hypocrisy in bringing up that particular situation. She silently pleaded with him not to say anything, and she figured she must have finally gotten through to him when she watched him close his eyes and shake his head almost sadly.

"So Katie," she continued, almost solemnly, "please, listen to my advice. I know this man."

_**He's a good time cowboy Casanova  
>Leaning up against the record machine<br>He looks like a cool drink of water  
>But he's candy coated misery<br>He's the devil in disguise, a snake with blue eyes  
>And he only comes out at night<br>Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight  
>You better run for your life <strong>_

Katie turned to watch the musician where he now stood by the jukebox, a beer in one hand and the other scrolling half-heartedly through the machine's selections. She was trying to take everything that Rachel had said to heart, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that this boy knew his way around more than just a guitar. He had just turned in their direction and she was getting ready to send him her most enticing smile when she felt the table shift under her arms. She had to tear her eyes away from him to stop her drink from spilling all over her due to the movement. Once her drink was stable, her eyes shifted to where Rachel was standing and bouncing excitedly in front of her chair, her hip still occasionally brushing the table. Well, at least she knew it wasn't an earthquake that made it move.

"Sam!" Rachel called out and waved excitedly to the blonde man who had just walked in the door. Once she had his attention, Rachel ran to her friend and threw her arms around his neck. Both laughing, Rachel looped an arm through his and led him back to their table, where Blaine was already pulling up a fifth chair.

Katie wondered a little about this new man. She couldn't recall having heard Rachel talk about a 'Sam' (or any other guy) before, but he was cute, and Rachel certainly seemed happy to see him. Katie hoped that maybe this boy was just the distraction that she needed to get Rachel off her back about a certain other man. As Rachel began to introduce Katie to Sam, practically gushing over him, Katie shifted her eyes back toward the object of her affection (or _lust_, you know, whatever) in time to see what looked like anger, or at least irritation, cross his handsome features. He then turned away to again distract himself with the music.

Rachel had never been so happy to see Sam; he couldn't have arrived at a better moment. As soon as they were all seated again, she leaned over to speak closely into Katie's ear. "So," she began, practically trembling with excitement, "what do you think about Sam?" Rachel grinned as she shifted her eyes to watch as Sam told some story that had both Kurt and Blaine laughing loudly.

"Huh?" Katie was more than a little confused. She couldn't stop sneaking glances toward the jukebox, but she was disappointed every time to see that the reason for her distraction still had not turned his attention back their way. "Oh, right. Sam. He's cute Rach. You guys are cute."

Rachel wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. "Us? What? No!" She rolled her eyes and reached out to grab Katie's hand, grinning conspiratorially. "I meant, _for you_. I really think you'd like him."

Katie sighed. She should have known. And yeah, ok, it's not like there was anything wrong with Sam. She was telling the truth when she told Rachel he was cute. And he seemed perfectly pleasant. But she had just had her heart set on someone … _darker_. She pretended to listen as Rachel went on and on about how great Sam was and how much fun Katie would have with him. She knew what Rachel was doing, and she was torn between her stubbornness – not wanting Rachel to win – and her desire to just shut Rachel up. Finally, Katie gave in and let Rachel draw her into a conversation with Sam. And alright, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was kind of nice. He was a little geeky in a weird sci-fi kind of way, but he was also cute about it, so she didn't really mind. And he was nice, and definitely interested, and he said a lot of really sweet things that made her feel pretty great. And while his mouth didn't give her the kinds of dirty thoughts that someone else's did, his wide smile and full lips certainly looked plenty kissable. Sending one more glance in toward the jukebox, Katie saw that Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broodingly-Handsome was still avoiding looking in their direction, so she decided she might as well give in to Rachel's match-making.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He sighed as he looked at the display. "It's my brother," he looked at Katie, then his friends, apologetically before standing, "I'll be right back."

Rachel watched as Sam left the bar, wishing that Katie looked as disappointed as Rachel felt. They really seemed to be hitting things off; this phone call couldn't have come at a worse time. "So how's it going?" She tried not to sound too desperate or needy.

"Rach," Katie breathed, almost warningly.

"Come on Katie. You know I'm just looking out for you here." Rachel looked at her friend pleadingly and smiled a little when she saw the acceptance on her face. "And right now, I'm telling you to run to Sam, to run away from Puck." Katie looked at her like she was a little more crazy than usual. "I mean it. Run for your life."

_**Run, run, run away don't let him mess with your mind  
>He'll tell you anything you wanna hear<br>He'll break your heart it's just a matter of time  
>But just remember-<strong>_

"Katie, I'm serious, go now. Get out of here. It's the best thing you can do." Rachel felt like she was so close. Just one more little push, and she would have Katie walking out the front door hand-in-hand with Sam.

Katie still looked hesitant, having noticed that the hot singer had again turned his attentions in their direction. And he seemed to be smiling at her as he talked to the bartender who had just appeared at his side. She appreciated that her roommate wanted to protect her, but Rachel was a worrier, and quite frankly, a prude. She felt that anything Rachel said about this guy should be taken with a grain of salt, if that. "I don't know Rach. I mean, Sam's cute and all, but that," she glanced back over her shoulder to where Puck was still leaning against the jukebox and smirking in their direction, "that _Park_ guy …"

"It's _Puck,_ Katie." Rachel was trying really hard here not to lose her temper with the girl. How could she insist that she just had to go home with him when she couldn't even get his name right? Sam really needed to get off the phone and back inside so he could get back to charming Katie and distracting her from Puck.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, Sam's … adorable. But Puck, I mean, _come on._ Look at him." Rachel rolled her eyes. She didn't need to look. She was plenty familiar with the view.

Finally. Sam had walked back in, and he was definitely eyeing Katie. Rachel stood from her seat at the table, smiling broadly, and waved him back over. "Look, Katie," Rachel was grasping for straws now, willing to do just about anything to make sure Katie didn't go over and try to get herself mixed up with Puck. There was no way that would not end horribly. "For the last time. All it will take is one word, and trust me, you will regret it. You might think he looks great, but this will not end well for you. But you know what, Sam's cute. You just said so yourself. And he's a good, good guy."

Katie still looked skeptical. "In fact, he's such a good guy, you can go back to my house." Katie's eyes lit up a little. Rachel knew that would strike a chord with her. No matter how _friendly_ Katie was, she still didn't like going back to the guy's place. It scared her. (As it should. Rachel didn't understand those stupid girls who would go home with guys they had just met.) So, Rachel's offer would certainly do a lot to boost Sam into the lead. "You can go right now and get Sam to take you back to my place, and you guys will have the entire basement all to yourselves. My dads are still out of town until Wednesday, and I promise you that as long as you keep your escapades behind that closed basement door, you'll get no interference from me."

It took all Rachel had not to grin, because she could see that she was winning Katie over for Sam. "And you know what, Sam can stay the night, I know how you love to cuddle." Both girls giggled; Rachel usually got stuck being the 'little spoon' in that arrangement during the school week. "And then in the morning, Kurt and Blaine can come over, and I'll make us all breakfast. And Sam will still be there to eat with us, because that's the guy he is."

Game. Set. Match. Katie had stopped looking for Puck, who had disappeared sometime during Rachel's speech, and had kept her eyes locked on Sam as he talked to Blaine about the game they planned to watch at the Hummels' on Thursday. He didn't seem to mind when Katie interrupted their guy-talk, and about three minutes later, Katie and Sam were exiting the bar together.

Rachel could finally breathe easy again. And if she just happened to shoot Sam a text pointing out that her basement was equipped with her dads' new 3-D tv and that one of the two 3-D dvds they owned at that point was "Avatar," who could blame her? She was a good friend, but she couldn't just have them going and violating her house.

"I can't believe you said all those things about Puck." Kurt pulled Rachel out of her own little world, and she saw that he was looking at her like she just kicked his puppy or something. She turned to Blaine, who watched her with an expression she couldn't quite place. He didn't seem as upset with her as his boyfriend was, but the look he was giving her felt a little like disappointment with a bit of something else _(what was that, suspicion, maybe?)_ mixed in.

"I thought you were over hating him, Rachel." Kurt continued, clearly not ready to let it go. "I thought you guys were kind of like, friends, or something now. How could you say that stuff?"

"Was any of it a lie?" Rachel challenged him, taking a sip of her drink.

"Well … no. But it wasn't exactly the truth either. I mean, not the truth about who he is. Not anymore at least." Now it was Kurt's turn to be annoyed. Not only had Rachel just spent the entire night saying horrible things about someone who may not have always been the best guy, but had ended up being a really good friend to both of them, but now she wasn't even listening to him. She was just staring off toward the back of the bar over Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Kurt. I have to go to the restroom. I'll be back." She jumped from the table as she patted Kurt quickly on the hand and smiled briefly at Blaine. Kurt shook his head and mumbled under his breath as she walked away. Blaine simply smirked and watched her go.

"Can you believe -," Kurt started, but he was cut off by a scream from the direction of the door.

"Kurt! Blaine!" Brittany waved and jumped like a six-year-old who was seeing her best friend for the first time in months. (Ok, so maybe they should have expected that.) Santana sauntered behind her, sneering at her surroundings as if she were too cool to be in such a place.

"Hey Britts! Tana." At least the appearance of the girls would brighten his mood and take his mind off of Rachel's bizarre behavior that evening.

"Where's Rachel? I thought she was with you guys." Or not.

"Oh, she's here Britts. She just went to the restroom. She should be back any minute." Brittany and Santana took their seats at the table while Blaine waved over the one waitress they had been instructed to order from that night. "Umm, what's up San?" Kurt had noticed that although Santana had joined them at the table, her attention was definitely not on her friends. She was scanning the room as if she were looking for something, or someone, specific.

"What's the deal? Puckerman promised me live music. I don't even see his ass. He better not have ditched me. No offense to you guys, but I don't think I can take a night with Berry without a bigger buffer."

"No offense taken." Kurt waved off Santana's almost-insult. "But yeah, he's here too. Somewhere. He was over by the jukebox, but I haven't seen him in a little while. He did let you down on the live music part though. Well, _he_ didn't, exactly. His band didn't show up." Santana groaned and rolled her eyes, mumbling something in Spanish, so Kurt continued trying to defend his friend. _(And really, when did he become Puck's knight in shining armor?)_ "If you had been her earlier you would have gotten to hear 'Sweet Caroline.' He was good, probably even better than that time in glee." Kurt stopped, only to be hit with another thought. "You know, it wasn't long after that he went awol." Blaine turned his attention from the waitress back to his boyfriend, a fleeting look of panic crossing his features. The others didn't seem to notice.

It was quiet for a few moments while Blaine accepted the fresh round and thanked the waitress. "Wait." Everyone turned to Santana, who had just spoken for the first time since receiving her drink, which she had already downed. "So Puckerman's here _somewhere_, but you guys haven't talked to him, am I right?" Kurt and Blaine both nodded. "But now he's gone MIA. After singing 'Sweet Fucking Caroline.' At right about the same time Berry went to go pee-pee, or tinkle, or whatever the fuck she does?" Blaine stifled a laugh and Kurt nodded again. "Seriously, guys?" Santana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the boys. Finally, Kurt seemed to get what she was implying. He groaned and dropped his head to the table. Blaine only smirked and took a draw from his beer.

_**He's a good time cowboy Casanova  
>Leaning up against the record machine<br>He looks like a cool drink of water  
>But he's candy coated misery<br>He's the devil in disguise, a snake with blue eyes  
>And he only comes out at night<br>Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight  
>You better run for your life<strong>_

Rachel slipped down the narrow hall that led to the restrooms, hoping she wasn't too late. She smirked to herself and thanked God for the concert flyer that had apparently distracted him long enough for her to catch up before he could slip back out into the bar. Without a word, she slipped behind him and circled one small hand around his wrist. She took advantage of his surprise, tugging his arm as he shifted his weight onto one foot to spin toward the stranger grabbing at him. Pulling him insistently toward the women's restroom (no way was she going anywhere near the men's), Rachel heard the beginning of an objection, followed quickly by a deep chuckle. Confident that Puck wasn't going anywhere, she released her hold on him and charged into the restroom, looking around to make sure it was empty. When she was satisfied that they would be alone in the small space, she turned back to Puck and grabbed a handful of his shirt just below his collarbone, pulling him into the room.

More than a little surprised, Puck followed Rachel's lead, keeping an eye on her and turning to back up to the sink as she turned away from him to throw the deadbolt. He would have to be blind not to appreciate the view before him. Kurt had obviously dressed her, in her roommate's clothes, from the looks of it. Starting at her feet (the best way to look at Rachel had always been to start at the bottom and work up, those legs were just too much not to savor), the first thing he noticed were her insanely high heels. He had no idea how she could walk in those things, but he wasn't complaining. Those shoes made her legs, the next part of her to get his attention, look 10 feet long. But for probably the first time ever, he didn't linger on her legs, because as his eyes moved farther up, they _finally _hit the dress. The garment was covered in sequins and stones in varying shades of gray and silver, forming waves and geometric shapes that almost made it look as if the dress were moving even when Rachel wasn't. The funny thing was, the countless sequins had nothing to do with why that dress had turned every head in the bar that night from the moment she walked in the door. No, that was thanks to the fact that the dress, if it could really be called that, stopped only an inch or so from the lower curve of her ass. Puck had to bite his lip when the thought crossed his mind that if she were to stretch her arms over her head, he would have a clear view of whatever was under that dress. _Is it too much to hope for nothing?_ It was really quite ironic that her arms were completely covered by fabric and sequins, since the dress was obviously not made for cold weather.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" He knew she could hear his smile through his voice. A deep breath and a second later she was again facing him and quickly closing the gap between their bodies. Before Puck quite knew what was happening, she was pressed against him and fumbling with the buttons of his plaid shirt. (_Shut up, it was like, badass-sexy-plaid, not like, Finn-trucker-plaid._) "Berry," he drawled, almost reproachfully. "This is a women's restroom, you're like, a theatre star, and our friends are out there." He was supposed to sound critical, but the smirk on his lips and in his eyes contradicted that in a second.

"The door is locked," he hadn't even touched her yet and she was panting, gasping for air between words, "I'm not a star yet," although earning the lead in an off-Broadway production as a freshman at NYU was a great start, "and our friends are drunk." She had reached the bottom button and her stomach jumped a little when she finally noticed that for reasons she didn't understand or care about, he wasn't wearing an undershirt for once. "Now kiss me."

Puck was more than happy to obey, and he was even happier when her hands snaked up his stomach and over his shoulders to push the shirt down over his arms. "I don't care if your idiot band members bailed on you," she didn't even back away, speaking against his lips as he continued to kiss and nip at hers, "you are still my man and you are so damn sexy to me." He couldn't argue with that, any more than he could argue with a cursing Rachel Berry (he learned a long time ago that cursing Rachel equals horny Rachel, and who was he to fuck that up?). And holy shit, the way her hands roamed his body, seeming to touch 10 different places all at once, why would he argue with that?

Well, if he wasn't going to stop her, the only other option was to help her out. When his shirt had landed in a blue plaid puddle on the floor and Rachel's arms had wrapped firmly around his neck, he decided it was his turn to have some control in this little game. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her just enough to move her without any resistance from the floor, not stopping until her back was pressed against the wooden door of one of the two stalls in the rest room. He removed one arm from her body and rested his palm flat against the door just above her head, bracing his weight to make sure he didn't get too eager and accidentally slam her against the door or something. The other arm remained hooked firmly around her waist, pulling her hips insistently against his.

She must have been even more hungry for him than he had thought, because while her right arm stayed looped across his shoulders, her nails scraping across his skin, her left hand flailed wildly above her head, searching for anything to grab onto for support. She found only the flat plane of the door. Finally realizing she wouldn't get anywhere with that endeavor, Rachel gave up and dropped her arm back to his shoulders and resumed her apparent quest to touch every square inch of his body before leaving that room.

Puck knew that if there had ever been any chance of them stopping, it flew out the window right about the time she hooked her right leg up over his hip. Without even looking down – it had been too long and it felt too good and he just couldn't keep his eyes open to save his life – he knew that tiny little dress really wasn't covering anything anymore. That thought made his arousal for her grow even more (which he hadn't thought possible), and he knew she had felt it when she dropped her head back and let out a barely audible moan. And that was just too much. He dropped his hands so that each one landed behind one of her knees, instantly pulling her left leg up to match her right one and rest on his hip. Almost without thinking, he slid his hands up the backs of her thighs and under that tiny thing she called a dress to cup her ass. And yeah, apparently it was too much to ask for there to be nothing under there, but if that thing she was wearing was _barely a dress, _then the strip of lace under it was _not quite underwear_, so apparently it wasn't MUCH too much.

He pressed his body a little harder against hers, supporting her weight between himself and the door so that he could move his hands to caress her face. Yeah, it had been over a month since he had been with his girl, and yeah, they were about to get it on in a public restroom, but just for a minute he needed to slow it down, he had to. So he slid his hands up her body and he didn't stop until they ran over her shoulders to cradle either side of her neck, sliding his thumbs back and forth across her jaw. This time when his mouth met hers, it was slow, and tender, and so full of emotion. And even though that only lasted a few seconds before they were once again feverish with desire, their teeth and tongues clashing in a battle for dominance and their hands roaming over skin and tearing at clothing, he knew she got it. They both got it. This wasn't just a fuck in a public restroom. This was Rachel and Noah, and distance be damned, they were gonna make this thing work.

_**Oh you better run for your life,  
>Oh you better run for your life<strong>_

"Jesus H. baby, not that I'm complaining or anything, but what's gotten into you?" Puck's shirt was back over his arms and shoulders but not buttoned, and Rachel's fingers trailed lazily over his bare chest as she sat on his lap on the bathroom floor. She had thrown a fit, ranting on about the evils to be found on a nasty public restroom floor, but his shirt had already been down there, and he really didn't give a shit about his jeans either. Besides, his legs were certainly weak after their little encounter, and he figured hers were too, so he just dropped down and grabbed her hips, pulling her down onto his lap so that nothing but her feet were actually touching the floor.

"You mean besides you?" She smirked at him and he groaned, digging his fingers into her hips a little tighter. "Come on Noah, 'Sweet Caroline,' really?"

Puck wiggled his eyebrows at her and leaned forward to nibble lightly at her earlobe. (_Neil Diamond is a fucking GOD.) _He pulled away when he felt her begin to squirm, because well, as much fun as it had been the first time around, he knew they couldn't really stay in the bathroom for round two. "So what're you gonna do now? Run for your life?" He didn't even try to hide the snicker that followed his words.

Her eyes got big for just a moment before she dropped her face into the curve where his neck met his shoulder so that he couldn't see her. He felt her embarrassment burning against his bare skin and that only made him laugh harder. "I didn't … I was trying … How did you know?"

"Babe, I'm here every week. I know all the bartenders. Jake told me some hot, loud-mouth midget brunette was talkin' shit about me to an easy-looking blonde bimbo who kept eyein' me."

She finally looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of hurt or anger. "Oh Noah, you know I don't really think those things. Not anymore anyway. I just didn't want her … I mean she was … And I know you wouldn't cheat on me," her words were sure, but her voice wasn't, and he ran a hand down the back of her hair and kissed the tip of her nose to reassure her, "but I still just didn't want her anywhere near you. You don't know what she's like."

"Oh, I think I do. You tell me about her nearly every day, remember?"

Rachel continued, ignoring the statement that from anyone else would have sounded like a jab at how much she talks. "Besides," her voice was a bit more forceful now, "you're the one who insists on keeping our relationship a secret. If I had my way, I'd have walked straight into your arms and kissed you senseless so that _Katie_," she said the name in a whiny, mocking tone, "couldn't possibly doubt that you were off-limits."

"Well babe, I don't think that's going to be an issue anymore."

"What do you mean?" She cocked her head to the side to look at him curiously. He was surprised that she hadn't realized it already, but then, Rachel tended to live in a little post-sex bubble, truly able to make herself believe that they were the only two people in the world during those moments. He squeezed her a little closer, trying to extend their moment by even a few seconds. There was a reason he didn't want all their friends to know that they had gotten together early in the summer after graduation and been together since. Rachel had been extremely hesitant to even start the relationship, even though she never even tried to deny her feelings for him, because of the fact that she was going to New York and he wasn't. He knew that their nosy, meddling friends would only make the situation worse, so once he finally convinced her to 'be his girlfriend,' (in a moment like this immediately after a night almost as hot as this one) he also convinced her not to tell them.

"I mean, I don't think we're gonna be a secret much longer," he smirked and she continued to look at him curiously. She started to say something, but he covered her mouth with his index finger. "Shh, listen."

Rachel heard the pounding on the door for the first time, followed by Kurt's voice and Blaine's laughter. "Rachel! Puck! We know you're in there! Open the door this instant!" Kurt sounded like a petulant child.

His voice was quickly followed by Santana's. "Yeah Berry, you're not quiet in _any_ aspect of your life. Thanks for the show, by the way, that audio will give me some nice visuals to think about later. But seriously, get your hot Jew asses out here. Now." If Puck thought Rachel was embarrassed before, there was no word for what she was now. He kissed her one last time before pushing her up off him so he could stand as well.

"C'mon baby. Let's go greet our adoring audience." She groaned and pressed her face into his bicep. "Just think of it as practice."

**Ok, so I apologize for not warning you about the mild sexy times (cause come on, they could have been SO much worse) in the beginning, but hey, where would have been the fun in that. I think I kept it PG-13, but if I bothered/offended anyone, I'm truly sorry. Again I have to thank the awesome Tashana Ambrosia for all her help. This story would have still happened without her, but it probably would have made a lot less sense! (My mind tends to work faster than my fingers and I can't help it if things get jumbled up …)**


	8. We Owned the Night

**First of all, I would like to apologize for the long wait for this next part. It's partly because I wrote another story in between ('If at First You Don't Succeed' – and yes, I did just shamelessly plug my own story …) and partly because I just don't have very much time with school. It takes me nearly two weeks to write one section. So, secondly, I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me and is still reading this story. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

**Now, this is the first time I've done this with this story, but this particular section is a companion/prequel to "You Look Good in My Shirt." It is set about a year before that one, and I just felt like it could use some background to explain how they got to that point.**

**We Owned the Night – Lady Antebellum**

"Come on dude. She's nice. And cute. Really cute. And you seemed to get along really well at that barbecue Mercedes had. It can't hurt to give her a try, right? And it might help, you know, with your … problem."

"Give it a rest Hudson. And I'm not telling you again, I don't have a _problem_."

"Puck, it's been five years. Five years without even so much as a date, as far as I can tell. That's a problem." Puck rolled his eyes and turned his back to his best friend and roommate. He wanted the subject dropped, but Finn either didn't get it or didn't care, because he followed him into the kitchen. Finn continued to talk as Puck dug through the fridge, not knowing what he was looking for, if anything. "In high school you barely went five_ minutes_ without a girl. I just … you've changed. And I'm not sayin' it's bad! You're still my best friend and you're an awesome roommate and you're way more responsible now and stuff, seriously, you do more around here than I do. Thanks for that, by the way," Puck waved him off nonchalantly, not wanting to get into all that. "But in some ways, it's like I don't even recognize you. You're not the same guy you used to be."

"So what, you're saying you want me to be that guy again? Bangin' anything in a skirt, including your girlfriend?" Puck slammed the fridge and turned to face Finn, who was now staring at him in wide-eyed horror. Yeah, he may be out of practice when it came to getting a girl in his bed. And no, he would never even think about going after Finn's girl. But neither of those facts did much to make Finn feel better about the prospect. "You want to 'fix my problem?' Fine, where's your phone, I'll call Chelsea right now." Puck smirked mischievously at his friend, sure that he had managed to shut him up, at least for a little while.

Finn surprised Puck when the look on his face changed from one of fear to almost giddy, pure glee. "That's a great idea! I'm going to call her. And then one of us," he shot Puck a pointed look that clearly said _'you,' "_will call Maddie. I have to work Saturday, but we'll invite them over for dinner Sunday." Finn headed out of the kitchen and toward his room to call Chelsea and fill her in on the plan.

Puck stood, dumbfounded, in the kitchen as his friend walked away. _'Well shit,'_ he thought, _'that backfired.'_ It was hard to hear him from the opposite end of the hall, but Puck could have sworn he heard Finn mutter the words 'perfect' and even 'fool-proof.' It wasn't that Puck didn't appreciate his friend's concern (or that of all the rest of his friends, for that matter), he just didn't think he needed it. So what if he hadn't dated anyone since the summer after he graduated from high school. And so what if he hadn't bothered to make any new friends in that time (or even talk to his old ones for a few months there at first), throwing himself into work and his night classes when that fall rolled around. He was doing something with his life, bettering himself and all that shit. They should be patting him on the back, not riding it.

_**Tell me have you ever wanted  
>Someone so much it hurts?<br>Your lips keep trying to speak  
>But you just can't find the words<br>Well I had this dream once;  
>I held it in my hands<strong>_

_Puck expected his last year of high school to be much like the first three – him being generally badass, terrifying the piss out of any loser who dared to get in his way (a couple of times literally), and hanging out (hooking up) with any girl he deemed worthy. Not so much. Sometime in the middle of October, when it actually sank in that Finn and Rachel were finally, really, over, Puck decided, 'what the hell.' There had obviously been something there, something he had been ignoring and pushing down for, well, he didn't really know how long. If Finn was really out of the picture, and it seemed that he was this time, then he was free to try to figure out exactly what that something was. Turned out that something was the kind of thing that a single kiss would only agitate, making it pop up and scream for more. And it was the kind of thing that one date couldn't even touch. So he kept pushing. He pushed until that first kiss (well, not really their __**first**__, but yeah, the first one this go 'round, the first one that really counted), a soft, gentle moment outside her car in the school parking lot, turned into repeated, not-so-gentle make-out sessions on her bed. Then he pushed until one date turned into a standing Saturday arrangement and then into 'Rachel & Noah – The Couple.' The fact that it happened wasn't really the surprising part. Now the fact that it all happened by December, that was a little surprising. And the charm bracelet and seven charms he gave her individually over the eight days of Hanukkah – a music note, a gold star, a tiny 'Broadway' street sign, a capital 'N,' and the words 'I,' 'love,' and 'you' – well, that was just something different altogether. He wasn't even really trying for a grand romantic gesture (although, if she took it that way and repaid him accordingly, well, he certainly didn't complain), he just needed her to see the words that his mouth couldn't seem to find. _

_So Puck spent the rest of that last year of high school being one half of 'Rachel & Noah,' and it was undoubtedly the best thing he had ever done. And though he never told her, because he knew she had dreams of her own and he wasn't quite sure how, or even if, he would fit into them, she had become the center of all of his dreams. While he knew that her dreams were taking her to New York in the fall and he would never even hint that she should do otherwise (fuck that, his girl was gonna OWN that town), he sometimes forgot about all that and allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if it was just them, just Rachel and Noah. Forever. _

~.~

"Hey man, how's the grill coming?" Finn's voice drifted through the house and out to the backyard where Puck was checking the coals one last time.

"Good. I think we can throw the meat on any time now." Puck shut the sliding glass door behind him as he made his way back in to get the supplies he needed to start cooking. He loved the smell of the grill in his backyard, but he didn't exactly want the smoke permeating the fabric of his awesome couch. Everyone had made fun of him and Finn when they went shopping for furniture for their house, calling them 'Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman,' (yeah, even in that fucked-up little joke he got to be the man – just the way it was) but they all stopped laughing the first time they sat on, then sank into, the plush micro-suede couch. Since the two men had agreed that once they both decided they were too mature for roommates (or ya know, found women who put an end to it), Puck got to keep the couch while Finn got the dinette, he was a little protective.

"Awesome. Chelsea just texted from the gas station around the corner. They stopped to get a 12-pack and they should be here in a minute." Finn passed Puck the platter of sausages and marinated chicken breasts then grabbed a tray covered in utensils and spices and followed his friend back outside.

"They?"

"Oh, yeah. Turns out Maddie lives really close to her," Puck scoffed at Finn's words. Of course the girls lived close to one another. This was fucking Lima they were talking about here. Everyone lived close to everyone else. "So she offered to give her a ride." Puck only nodded. He still wasn't sure how he felt about this whole set-up.

Puck had met Maddie at a barbecue Mercedes threw over Memorial Day weekend. (_Oh shit, she's not gonna think barbecues are like, our thing, or something, is she? I like barbecues. Don't wanna ruin 'em.)_ Maddie had just been hired to work at McKinley starting the next fall to replace some old bat that Puck vaguely remembered from his time at the school. Mercedes had taken a quick liking to the girl and wanted to make her feel welcome, especially since she was new in town and all, and invited her to come hang out with the gang.

As was usual at these kinds of things, people started pairing off quickly once the initial 'good to see you again' mingling wound down. So it just kind of happened that Maddie and Puck ended up talking, Maddie still not knowing any of the group well enough to be a third wheel and Puck just not interested enough to try to work his way into any of the conversations. (And maybe he was trying to avoid all their questions about a.) if he had talked to Rachel lately – Brittany, or b.) if he had been on any dates lately – everyone else) And yeah, Finn had been right earlier in the week when he said they got along. But it was just that. He 'got along' with her the same way he did with Mercedes or Tina or even Finn. So ok, maybe, just maybe, he was opening up to the idea of actually kinda gaining a new friend that wasn't a significant other to one of his existing friends, but that was as far as it went. Yet he had apparently grown oblivious to his friends' meddling, because he had ended up seeing Maddie three times since Memorial Day on what felt suspiciously like group or double dates when he thought about them afterward.

And now, because Finn just couldn't mind his own damn business, he was having another barbecue with this girl and trying to let her know, in the clearest way possible without being completely rude, that he wasn't interested in gaining anything more than a buddy. He thought he had been doing a pretty good job, but Finn apparently didn't agree. In the middle of yet another lecture about why he needed to just 'suck it up and give her a try,' the men walked into to the house with the rest of the dishes and the remnants of their dinner to hear the girls loading the dishwasher and talking in the kitchen.

"… Tony." They only caught the one word, and they weren't even sure which girl said it, but it was enough to stop both Finn and Puck in their tracks. Finn stole a glance at his friend, but Puck's expression was completely unreadable. Finn had no idea what was going through his mind.

"Maybe they're talkin' about an actual guy?" Finn didn't mean for it to come out as a question. It just sort of happened. And he knew he failed at his attempt at consolation when Puck looked at him with his 'you gotta be shittin' me' face. Finn knew good and well that the Tonys were that night. And he knew Puck knew, because when he went to record it on the DVR, it was already set. He only shrugged then, as if to say _'Sorry man, I tried.'_

"I would love to go see a real show sometime," was followed by a sigh, and Finn knew it came from Chelsea. He knew partly because he recognized her voice, and partly because as different as his current love was from his first real love (Chelsea was a paramedic for Christ's sake, Rachel couldn't even watch herself getting a flu shot), that was one thing the two girls shared. Of course, Chelsea wasn't quite at the level of obsession Rachel was, but she did have a bigger soft spot for the theatre than any other girl Finn knew besides Rachel. He smiled a little and congratulated himself on his idea to ask Rachel to get him those tickets for Chelsea's birthday in the fall. Rachel even offered to show them around to her favorite places and hinted that she might be able to get them backstage. It would be Chelsea's first birthday since they got together, right before their first anniversary to boot, and he was going to score _major_ points.

"I went last month, right after graduation. Gift from my parents." Finn stiffened, not wanting to hear what he knew was going to come next. Murray's Law, or something like that. "I got to see the revival of 'Funny Girl.'" And there it was. Fuck you Murray. _(Is that right? It doesn't sound right.)_

Puck didn't actually respond at all when he heard the girls talking about Broadway and then about Rachel's show. At least, he didn't outwardly respond. In his mind, he was losing it. He was beating the shit out of Finn for talking him into this. He was screaming at Maddie for being such an evil bitch. (She wasn't. He knew that. Good thing he learned to keep those things in his head somewhere along the way.) But most of all, he was hating Rachel (again, not really, but it helped to tell himself that) for being so damn _awesome_ that he couldn't stop hearing about her. Or thinking about her. Or just generally move on, for that matter. He stayed in his own head until the girls turned the corner from the kitchen and Chelsea was absent-mindedly pulling the dishes from his and Finn's hands, her attention focused on Maddie, who was still apparently talking about the show.

"… could be as good as Barbra, but she was amazing. I've never seen heart or passion like that in my life." Puck flinched a little and raised his hand to scratch at the back of his head to disguise the movement. He knew all about Rachel's heart and passion. He knew better than anyone. "It's only right that she be nominated tonight."

Both men were a little startled when Chelsea jumped and squealed a little. "Finn, sweetie …," Finn's eyes widened. He knew what was coming next. Puck took the dishes back from Chelsea and headed toward the kitchen.

"I got this." He had to let Finn handle that situation. If he had stayed to listen to Chelsea begging his best friend to let them watch the Tonys, one way or another, his reaction would have been bad. If he had taken her side and wanted to watch, he would come across as a pussy. If he argued not to watch the awards, Finn would only have more ammunition to use against him later in one of his many arguments about how he really wasn't over her. He was doomed either way, so he figured it was best to just bow out altogether. After loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and starting it, and grabbing four fresh beers from the fridge, he decided he had been gone long enough to let this play out on its own and headed back for the living room.

He entered the room to find Finn in the recliner with Chelsea on his lap and Maddie on one end of the couch, the girls still talking animatedly to one another. He guessed they were still talking about the play, but he tuned them out. He didn't need to hear it. He shot a sideways glance at the tv to see red carpet coverage and a countdown to the show, then looked back at Finn to see that puppy dog, 'I didn't mean to eat your favorite shoe,' look on his face. He just sighed resignedly before distributing the beers and taking a seat on the couch opposite Maddie.

Maddie turned to him, a genuine smile on her face, when he sat at the other end of the couch she was on. "So …" she started a little timidly, "what's she like? I mean, I know you guys knew her. I saw a glee picture in the trophy case at school when I took my tour, and I saw another one at Mercedes' house. It was kind of silly, just a bunch of kids goofing around, but it was cute. And you three were front and center."

All eyes were on Puck. Both girls were smiling at him, waiting patiently for him to no doubt spout off some cliché speech about how talented and motivated and driven she was, all the while knowing exactly what her dreams were, and still being a great friend to all of them. Finn's eyes just begged, pleaded really, for him not to answer the question. It didn't work.

_**She was the purest beauty  
>But not the common kind<br>She had a way about her  
>That made you feel alive<br>And for a moment  
>We made the world stand still<strong>_

"_Are you ready Noah?"_

_Puck shifted his weight onto his other foot and tried not to sigh so loudly that Rachel could hear him from upstairs. By this point, both of her dads, even the scary one, were shooting him sympathetic glances, and the nice one had already been up to her room twice. "Rach, I been standin' at the bottom of these stairs for 20 minutes. I'd say I'm ready."_

"_Fine Noah. There's no need to be snippy." He ground his teeth together and only managed to keep from storming up the stairs by reminding himself that he had a Berry father on either side of him. "Daddy, are you ready? Do you have the camera?"_

"_Ready princess, just get down here before your prince leaves without you and we all turn into pumpkins."_

"_Daddy," she sounded exasperated, "that didn't even make sense." Puck looked from one father to the other and wondered how Rachel, the tiniest, most feminine, most delicate, person he knew, could somehow manage to take grown-ass men down a peg without even being in the room._

"_Rachel," apparently, her dad was getting frustrated with her too. Puck thought he remembered something about a date night for the men, but they refused to leave before seeing the couple off to their senior prom. "Enough theatrics. Your father, Puck, and I have been waiting as patiently as possible, but now it's time for you get down here so you can go enjoy your prom."_

"_Yes sir." _

_Puck shook his head at Rachel's response. He still couldn't get over the way her dad could be so stern with her and not get so much as a whimper in return. If anyone else had spoken to her in that tone, she would have immediately gone into either diva mode (if it was Mr. Schue or anyone else in glee) or wounded princess mode (that one was special for her daddy and himself). _

"_I'm coming now." All three men shifted their eyes from their shoes – seriously, it had been a long wait, they had pretty much run out of things to say to each other – to the top of the stairs when they heard Rachel's bedroom door close._

_Puck knew he should say something when he saw her, but there was no way that any words would be good enough. His first thought was that he was so glad he finally convinced her that pink was not actually her best color. (What? He got tired of feeling like he was dating a live-action Strawberry Shortcake.) The midnight blue satin of the dress looked awesome against her just-tan-enough skin and the dark curls that cascaded down her back. His second thought was that for a dress that really didn't show any of the good stuff, the sight of her in it was pretty much the most amazing thing he'd ever seen._

_Ignoring, or maybe forgetting, that he was standing between her fathers, Puck took the steps two at a time until he met her somewhere just north of the middle. He let his hands rest on her hips and leaned to speak into her ear, his cheek resting against hers. "Ya know I'm not too good with words, unless someone else writes 'em and they go with a guitar. And I know this isn't close to bein' enough, but baby, you look beautiful."_

_She lifted her hands to rest them on his shoulders and turned her head just enough to drop a soft kiss just in front of his ear before replying. "Thank you Noah. And you clean up quite nicely yourself."_

_As far as proms go, it was pretty typical, which he guessed was an improvement over their last one. He didn't even remember all that first dance and last dance (all his dances were with Rachel, so did it really matter?) and King and Queen bs. To be honest, he kind of enjoyed what came after more than the prom itself. He had promised both Rachel and her dads, separately, that he wouldn't leave her house until they got home. He had been surprised the first time they asked him to stay over when they were out of town, but he soon realized how much they worried about Rachel when they weren't around, more on an emotional front than a physical one, and he wasn't about to argue anyway._

"_You know, you can leave if you want to. I know there are a lot of parties you could be at," she said quietly as they sat on her couch watching 90s sitcoms on Nick-at-Nite. He had changed into a pair of football sweats and a t-shirt he'd brought along and she had slipped out of her dress and into pajamas (eventually), her face scrubbed of make-up but her hair still curled and (sort of) neatly pulled back._

"_I know." He turned the volume down a couple notches as she tilted her head up to look at him, her chin resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm a little more tightly around her. "But I don't want to." He kissed the tip of her nose when she smiled so widely it wrinkled a little._

_Rachel settled her cheek back onto his shoulder and sighed slowly before speaking again. "Quinn was very pretty tonight. And Santana's dress …"_

_Puck gently but forcefully pushed her off of him until she was sitting upright. "Rachel – don't." he told her sternly. _

"_What?"_

_He shook his head a little before closing his hands over hers in her lap and running his thumbs over her knuckles. "Ya know, if it was anybody else, I'd accuse of you fishin' right now. But I know you only do that about your talent and shit." He tugged on her hands a little to get her to look up at him. "So instead, I'm gonna tell you to stop bein' so damn insecure and ridiculous. You don't look anything like Quinn or Santana." Rachel dropped her head again, but he moved his right hand from her lap to cup her jaw, pulling her face up to his and leaning his forehead against hers. "And baby, that's a good thing. Everybody knows how fake Santana is, in every sense of the word. And Quinn, she's just as fake, in her own way. She's like this, this porcelain doll version of pretty. It just doesn't seem real. But my girl," he moved his left hand around her waist and to the small of her back to pull her closer, "she's as real as it gets. And I dare anyone, even you, to try to find someone more beautiful. Ain't happenin'."_

_**Yeah we owned the night**_

Seeing that Puck was in fact going to respond to Maddie's innocent question, Finn opened his mouth to beat him to it. Unfortunately, without taking his eyes from his beer bottle, Puck cut him off. "Beautiful." His eyes lifted slightly, scanning the room around him. Finn was kind of glaring at him, shaking his head a little. Puck knew that Finn really didn't want him going down this road, not with Maddie around anyway. But the girls seemed oblivious, thinking of his response only as something nice one friend would say about another. "But not like, beauty queen or movie star or supermodel beautiful." He had turned and was actually talking to Maddie now, partly because she was the one who had asked the question and partly because he didn't want to see the look on Finn's face. It would probably be the same look Finn got every time Puck talked about Rachel, which, to be fair, was not often. Why would he do that to himself? He also didn't want to hear Finn's voice in his head, _'Yeah dude, I know. I lived it, remember? I was there in high school and I've been here ever since she left.'_ And even Chelsea knew enough of the story just from being around the boys the past eight months. But Maddie, she wanted to know. So he was telling her. "She was like, _real_ beautiful."

Puck's mouth closed and he turned his attention back to his beer, and Finn relaxed a little, thinking Puck was finished. _'That wasn't so bad,'_ he thought, tightening his grip on Chelsea's waist with one hand and lifting his beer to his lips with the other. The girls shared a small smile, both impressed by this softer side of Puck, a side neither had seen before. Maddie settled back against the arm of the couch and turned back to the television, only to be startled when Puck began speaking again.

"And when you were with her, or just around her, you felt … special. Like, she was so special that she made everything she did special." Maddie swallowed a little harder than she meant to at Puck's words. This was certainly not the kind of response she had expected when she asked about the boys' former classmate. Puck didn't really seem like a 'pour your heart out' kind of guy. She felt like she was being left out of some big private joke or something. She looked to Finn and Chelsea for some kind of support, or even insight. Chelsea was clearly as surprised as Maddie, but Finn just looked pissed, and maybe a little like he was going to be sick. "'Being a part of something special makes you special.'" Puck murmured the last sentence almost too quietly for anyone to hear, but Maddie was on the same couch, and she did hear. A little deflated, more from the way he said it than from the actual words, she sank farther into the couch and took a larger-than-necessary swig of her beer.

After two or three very long minutes of near silence, Finn finally spoke up. "Oh look! It's starting," it was obvious to everyone in the room that he was feigning excitement, but no one called him on it. "I just love Neil Patrick Harris. He's hilarious. Don't you love NPH, babe?" He squeezed Chelsea's hip, willing her to play along.

"Huh? Oh yeah, he's hosted several times. He's very good at it. So charming. His monologues are always so funny." She smiled warmly at the other girl, hoping to ease the tension a little, as her boyfriend shot hateful stares at his best friend. At this rate, it was going to be a very long night.

_**You had me dim the lights;  
>You danced just like a child<br>The wine spilled on your dress  
>And all you did was smile<br>Yeah, it was perfect  
>I hold it in my mind<strong>_

"_There you are B. I been lookin' for ya for like, 30 minutes babe." When Rachel had climbed off his lap with only a chaste kiss in explanation and left the yard, he had assumed she was going to the restroom. When she wasn't back after five minutes, he started to wonder about her. After 10, he went looking. The Hummels' house was nice, but it wasn't that freakin' big. It should not have taken that long to find one little diva. He hadn't even known there was an attic until Finn asked if he'd checked it. That info would've been helpful 20 minutes earlier._

"_We graduated Noah!" Rachel beamed at him from the middle of the room, one hand gesturing wildly in front of her and the other holding a champagne flute._

"_I know babe. S'why all the rest of us are downstairs at our graduation party. Question is, why are you hiding in the attic?" He chuckled when she rolled her eyes at him, as if, as always, the answer was completely obvious._

"_I'm not hiding Noah. I just –," she pointed to the wall next to where he was standing. "Turn out the light." She waved her hand to hurry him along when he hesitated, looking at her like she may have lost her mind. "Come on. Turn out the light and get over here." Knowing there was no point in arguing, or even asking questions, Puck did as he was told. As soon as the lights were out, he understood._

_With the overhead lights turned off, Puck could see that Rachel was standing under a skylight. By some stroke of fate or kismet or what-the-fuck-ever, their high school graduation fell on a full moon. The bright light from the moon and the stars that were easily visible in a small town like Lima lit her from above, giving her a sort of halo. Her hair had this soft glow and her blue dress shimmered. He loved the way it hugged her curves so that he could see her chest rising gently with each breath. Most of all he loved that she actually wore clothes like that now. He totally did that, that whole confidence thing that made her comfortable enough to wear those clothes._

_Puck let his feet carry him to her, stopping behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. He rested his cheek against the side of her head as she stared up at the sky above them. She sighed dreamily as she leaned back against his chest. "Isn't it beautiful?_

"_So fucking beautiful." But Puck wasn't looking at the sky. "How'd you know about this?" He felt his chest tighten as a thought hit him and he stiffened his posture behind her. "You … you've never been up here with Finn, have you?"_

_Puck didn't relax until he felt Rachel's head moving back and forth across his chest. "Only Kurt." _

_He smirked and considered making a sarcastic joke about how that wasn't any better, but it seemed like Rachel was having some kind of moment or something, and he didn't want to screw with that. For as excited as she seemed to be right now about graduating, she had definitely had moments of extreme nervousness about the "next step." To be honest, he didn't really get it. She had always been more sure about her future than anyone he had ever known. The only reason he never tried to argue with her about how ridiculous she was being was because he had a feeling her apprehension had something to do with them, and he understood that feeling well. He hadn't exactly gotten his shit together in time to be able to go to New York with her in the fall, so the plan was for him to stay around Lima for the first year to work and go to community college, then join her the next year. It was better than nothing, but it was certainly not ideal._

"_Dance with me Noah?" Her voice broke his trance and he smiled down at her when she turned in his arms upon hearing the music drifting up to them from the party outside. He nodded and shifted his right hand up to the middle of her back while his left one found hers out to the side of their shoulders. He could feel her glass resting against his shoulder blade as she settled her left arm on his right one and dropped her head to his shoulder, following his lead to spin slowly around the attic. They kept dancing even once the music stopped and they fell back into silence. _

_After a couple minutes in which there was no sound other than the crickets and the occasional laugh or shout from one of their friends, a much faster beat reached their ears. Rachel squealed and jumped away from Puck, a blinding smile on her face. Apparently someone had suggested karaoke, because it was Blaine's voice that they heard instead of Pink's. She bounced around him, ruffling his mohawk and craning over his shoulder to sing into his ear. The words, 'Where's the rock and roll?' coming out of Rachel Berry's mouth only made him laugh and shake his head at his giddy girlfriend. And when she thrust her glass into the air as if following Blaine's instructions and the champagne sloshed over the side and down the front of her dress, he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from bellowing out loud. "Umm, ya drunk babe?" His voice rose playfully on the last word._

_Still smiling, she shook her head at him. "Hmm-umm. This is only my second glass." Even with the champagne that now rested on her dress instead of in the glass, it was nearly full. Not even Rachel got drunk off one glass of champagne. He was actually really glad that she wasn't drunk; it reminded him of how awesome they were together. No one else got to see Rachel this way, all cool and relaxed. Even with her closest friends she still kept up a shield, not wanting to become vulnerable by opening herself up completely. But with him, she didn't hold anything back. He was her Noah and she was his Rachel, and that chick was pretty much the coolest person on the planet._

_**Yeah, we owned the night**_

Few words were spoken for the first 20 minutes of the broadcast. Puck stared blankly at the television, seeming to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room. Chelsea quietly pointed out dresses that she liked, trying to draw Maddie back into a more comfortable place, while Finn silently brooded over his beer, thinking of all the things he would do to pay Puck back for screwing up this thing with Maddie. He was tired of having a lonely, pouting (Puck denied it, and it wasn't overly obvious, but Finn had known him since, well, forever) shell of his best friend for a roommate. Hell, Finn and their other friends had even done all the leg work for him. All Puck had to do was sit here and lay on some of that charm that used to ooze naturally out of him, and he couldn't even do that.

Finn had just started to relax, realizing that Puck hadn't spoken since his little dissertation on Rachel's beauty and that Chelsea seemed to have succeeded in cheering Maddie up, when he saw both girls' expressions change to something resembling horror. He followed their line of sight to the tv just as the point of view shifted from the stage to the back of the theatre. He saw the curtain that was hanging there flutter just a little as the plucky, deliberate music began, and even though he hadn't heard Neil Patrick Harris announce her, he knew that in a matter of seconds Rachel Berry would come out from behind that curtain. And if he had to guess, he would say that Kurt and/or Blaine would be seated strategically along the aisle where she could drop down into his lap "spontaneously." It kind of felt like things had come full circle, really, her singing that song and him pissed at Puck over a girl. But this time, Finn wasn't the heartbroken one. And Puck was the one who looked like he was getting ready to start kicking things.

But he didn't. And he didn't storm out of the room or throw his beer bottle at the wall or even move from the couch. Instead, he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs and eyes narrowed at the tv, and he started to talk. Not just talk, talk … to the tv. "Is that what you thought," Puck started as Rachel began to sing the first verse, "that I didn't want you to live? That I was going to rain on your parade?" It wasn't easy to hear Puck's voice over Rachel's very powerful one pouring out of the television speakers, but it wasn't impossible either. Maddie and Chelsea both lowered their eyes to their hands, trying to find anything to alleviate the awkward tension of the situation, but Finn stared unabashedly at his friend. It was the first time that he had really seen inside what was going on with Puck. Sure, he knew that not talking to Rachel since she left for New York almost five years ago had affected his friend, and he knew that he had avoided even the hint of a relationship of any kind in that time, but Finn chalked it up to stubbornness and pride. Apparently, it was so much more than that._****_

_**When the summer rolls around  
>And the sun starts sinking down<br>I still remember you  
>Oh, I remember you<br>And I wonder where you are  
>Are you looking at those same stars again?<strong>_

_Puck had to stifle his laugh when he saw Rachel fly nearly a foot off the seat beside him. The gravel road he had turned onto just outside of town had long since turned into not much more than a glorified hiking trail, and the tree roots he was driving over (not exactly cautiously) had been sending her tiny body flying all over the seat for almost 10 minutes now._

"_Noah," Rachel breathed out, exasperated, "I'm not even going to waste my time asking you, yet again, where we are going. But can you at least, __**please**__, tell me if we're almost there? I'm afraid I won't be able to attend my dance class tomorrow at this rate, and I don't even want to think about the unimaginable bruises I am going to have in unmentionable places."_

_He had been holding back his smiles and his laughter for a while, but he could not control his smirk at her comment. "Don't worry babe. I'll kiss 'em all better." He kept one eye on the path in front of him, but he had to sneak a peek at her, because he wouldn't miss the blush he knew would be overtaking her face. So worth it. "But yeah. We're here."_

"_Wha – Noah, I don't understand. We're in the middle of the woods."_

"_No, we __**were**_ _in the middle of the woods. Now we're in a clearing. Come on." Puck turned off the ignition and slid out of the truck, making it to her side before Rachel even had a chance to collect herself and open the door. "Princess," he swung the door open and bowed in front of her, mocking her just a little for all her pouting on the drive._

"_Cute." Rachel jumped out of the truck and brushed past him, turning slow circles in the open field, taking in the sights around her. The clearing really was beautiful. Behind the truck was a nearly solid wall of trees. It was actually surprising that he had managed to fit the truck through the woods at all. Opposite the trees, a small but rapidly moving creek separated the clearing from another dense forest. And the clearing itself, it was nearly breathtaking. The grass was thick and lush, with deep blue and purple wildflowers popping up unexpectedly in random places throughout. "Noah, this is beautiful. But why are we here? And … oh God. We're not trespassing are we? I don't want to go to jail!"_

_Puck laughed at Rachel. Once upon a time, her super-ability to make anything overly dramatic would have made him roll his eyes and hightail it out of there. Now, he just appreciated how truly 'Rachel' it was. "Well, first, we're here because, yeah it's summer, but I'm pool-ed and park-ed and ice cream-ed out. We needed somethin' different. And second, no, you're not going to jail. I'm not sure exactly who owns it, but 'bout this whole forest belongs to some Puckerman or other. My dad was a deadbeat, but he brought me and Sarah here sometimes before he took off." He paused for a moment, staring down at the line his foot was tracing in the tall grass until he felt Rachel's hand rub gently up his bicep. "His family don't really have anything to do with us," he shrugged, "but I'm pretty sure they know I come out here, and they don't ever say anything about it either. And yeah. It's beautiful. S'why I knew you'd like it."_

"_Did you … I mean, was there anything in particular you had in mind?" _

"_Nah," he shrugged again, nonchalantly." Just wanted you to see it. And I thought we could, dunno, talk or somethin'. We been really busy since school got out, and I don't want the summer to end without us really takin' advantage of it."_

_Rachel took the few steps necessary to close the gap between their bodies and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. "Have I told you lately what an amazing boyfriend you are?"_

"_Yeah." He smirked down at her. "But I don't mind. You can say it again." His smirk shifted to a smile when she squeezed her arms tighter around his middle._

"_Well," Rachel lifted onto her tip toes to kiss him softly on the lips, "you are the sexiest, most thoughtful, and yet most badass boyfriend ever." She kissed him again, and he gently worked his tongue into her mouth before she had a chance to pull away. Puck growled into her mouth when he felt her hands slip into his back pockets. "Ok," he moaned as she pulled away. "So, what do you do in the middle of the woods …" she stopped herself when she saw him start to interrupt her, "I'm sorry, a __**clearing**__ in the middle of the woods, on a lovely day like today?"_

_Once he finished 'teaching' her to skip rocks in the creek (damn if she wasn't almost better than he was after the first try), Puck and Rachel spent the afternoon in the clearing on a blanket that Puck pulled from behind the passenger seat of the truck. There was no real rhyme or reason to anything that they talked about, the topics jumping from video games to current movies to Rachel's fathers' upcoming Fourth of July barbecue and everything in between. After several hours of laying on that blanket and doing pretty much nothing until the sun disappeared and the stars took its place, Rachel interrupted their silly game of making up their own constellations (often with somewhat inappropriate names, at least on Puck's turns). _

"_Umm, Noah," she paused until he pulled her tighter and hummed into her ear, "today has been awesome. I mean it. I've really, really enjoyed it. But, I have to know something." He still didn't speak, turning his head and kissing her temple to signal her to continue. "Have you … Well, how many other girls have ever been here with you?"_

_Puck pushed himself up to a sitting position, looking down at her seriously. "Rachel, the __**only**__ person I ever brought out here before today is the brat. It's just, well," he paused, waiting while Rachel pushed herself up to sit facing him, "this was the only place I ever had any decent memories with my dad. Then he took off and that went to Hell. I didn't come back out here for a long time after that. Then when the brat" he ignored the way Rachel rolled her eyes as he used the 'offensive' nickname a second time, "started to get in trouble at school, pullin' some of the same shit I pulled, I thought maybe it was time to make some new memories. I know how bad I've screwed up. I didn't want her to make my mistakes. So I thought maybe if I started, ya know, spendin' more time with her, maybe stepped up and took over where my dad left off, it would help. I think it did, she hasn't been in trouble in a long time. Her grades were actually kinda awesome this year." He stopped involuntarily, cut off when Rachel's lips met his own. He must have gotten that stupid, dopey 'I'm-proud-of-my-little-sister-cause-I'm-a-good-big-brother' look again. Rachel always got excited over that look._

"_I'm sorry. Continue." She blushed as she pulled away from him, his right hand still sliding through a section of her hair._

_He smirked at her before continuing. "Yeah, well, moral of the story, this place kinda holds like, special meaning for me now or whatever. Some of the only good times I ever had with my family happened here. I couldn't let this summer end without gettin' you out here too." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "Ya know, before you become a big star and everything." _

_**Do you remember when?**_

The song was almost over. Rachel had made it up onto the stage and was building up to her breathtaking finale _(after a brief stop to dote on Kurt – called it)_, and Puck was still talking. He had taken a break in the middle to just take her in – Rachel had performed the song amazingly at Sectionals all those years before, but that was nothing compared to the way she sounded now with the added experience and the maturity her voice had gained over the years. But then, as if he couldn't control himself, Puck picked up where he had left off.

"Did you really think I wouldn't support you? That I would try to keep you down? You know better than that shit. I've always been your biggest fan."

"He knows she's not here, right?" Finn whispered into Chelsea's ear. "I mean, you don't think he's like, losing his mind or something do you?" Chelsea just closed her eyes and put a finger over her mouth, shaking her head at her confused boyfriend.

"I wanted this for you, ya know. I just hoped not to be watching it on the fuckin' television. I thought I made that shit clear that summer. Ruined summer for me, too, by the way. You're everywhere here in the summer. Can't even drive by a park or a pool without flashbacks. That shit's just not cool."

The three other pairs of eyes in the room grew with surprise at Puck's last admission. It wasn't lost on anyone that it was June. June is summer. Maddie refused to make eye contact with Finn or Chelsea, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the evening had taken. She felt a little like an idiot. She didn't think that things had been moving along all that well with Puck – she certainly wasn't hearing wedding bells or anything – but she didn't realize that she had spent these past few weeks trying to empty the Pacific Ocean with a teaspoon.

Puck moved for the first time since starting his one-sided conversation with the woman inside his television. As the last powerful note of the song drew to a close, he scrubbed a hand down his face then threw himself back against the couch. When the theatre, and therefore his living room, filled with applause, he dropped his head back onto the back of the couch and let out a deep sigh._****_

_**We woke under a blanket  
>All tangled up in skin<br>Not knowing in that moment  
>We'd never speak again<br>But it was perfect;  
>I never will forget<br>When we owned the night**_

_Believe it or not, the whole thing was Rachel's idea. Puck's plan for that night, the one before she went to New York (he refused to use the word 'last,' not happening), was dinner at this new Indian restaurant just out of town that apparently had a lot of meatless dishes. He wasn't even sure she knew about the place yet, but the idea of surprising her with something she would never expect from him was pretty exciting. After dinner he was just going to take her home and spend the evening on her couch letting her control the remote. He couldn't think of anything that would make Rachel happier than a free pass at whatever musicals she wanted to watch, but honestly, it was pretty much his dream night too. Even after nine months of dating, Rachel still felt the need to play 'perfect hostess' whenever he was at her house. At first he thought it was kind of amusing, so he drank so much pop when he was there that he was pissing all through the night, just because he found it funny the way she jumped up and ran to the kitchen every time he hinted at being thirsty. But soon into the relationship he put a stop to that because the amusement he got at watching her play waitress had nothing on the way he felt when she was snuggled up with him on the couch. (Shut up. He was __**not**__ a pussy. His girl was just that good.) And then to top it off, when he let her watch whatever sappy movie she wanted, that, ok, maybe he didn't always hate, she was like a fuckin' cat. Seriously. She curled all up on him in a tiny little ball, gripping at his shirt, and legit purred every time he touched her. Purred! So yeah, no complaints about chillin' on her couch for the night._

_But then he got there to pick her up, and she was bounding down the front porch steps and waving to her dads over her shoulder before he even got his door open. As soon as he was on his feet he saw the duffel bag over her left shoulder. It was nearly as big as she was, not easy to miss. "Uh, babe? You're not goin' to New York __**now**__. You know that, right?"_

"_Oh Noah," she tip toed to peck his lips, "don't be silly." (Right. He was the 'silly' one.) She struggled to lift the bag into the truck's bed and he rolled his eyes, grabbing the bag with one hand and flinging it effortlessly over the side of the truck. "Of course I know that. This is for us." She squeezed his bicep in thanks then walked to the passenger side of the truck._

"_Ok, so, ya gonna share?" He waited until Rachel was strapped into the seat to question her about the mysterious bag sliding around the bed of his truck._

"_Nope," she grinned over at him mischievously. "Just take me to the woods."_

"_The … You mean the clearing?"_

"_Right. The clearing in the woods."_

_Puck didn't say much on the drive, and while Rachel didn't either, he didn't miss the way she kept fidgeting and bouncing in her seat, fiddling with the radio so often they didn't listen to a single song all the way through. His girl was trying to hide something and she was obviously excited about it. She was so not good at being sneaky, and normally he would take advantage of that, teasing and ribbing at her until she (quickly) broke. But tonight, he didn't want to take whatever it was away from her. If she was happy, the last thing he was going to do was ruin that for her._

_When they reached the edge of town and turned onto the familiar (to him, she'd still only been there the one time) gravel road, he could feel the seat begin to practically vibrate beneath him. Her fidgeting and bouncing had intensified, and he was getting pretty excited himself just to see what this was all about. When he finally maneuvered the truck through the last cluster of trees and into the open area bordered on the other side by the creek, Rachel was out of the truck before he had even turned off the engine. By the time he had slid out of the truck and closed the door behind him, Rachel was scrambling over the side and up into the bed of the truck. He could've helped her, but this way was much more amusing. He waited until she was on her feet and tugging at the zipper of the duffel bag before he said anything. _

"_Now you gonna fill me in? I kinda made plans here."_

"_Well, too bad. I made plans too. And I think once you hear mine, you will be more than happy to set yours aside." The first thing she pulled from the bag was a soft-shelled cooler, the kind barely big enough to fit a 12-pack (although he was nearly positive that was not what was in it). Without a word, she handed the insulated tote to him and, because he didn't know what else to do, he stood beside the truck and held it dumbly. The next items out of the bag, which she paid little to no attention to as she tossed them aside, looked like clothes. More specifically, they looked like pajamas – he saw the bright polka dot pattern that graced the shorts of her summer pjs and a tank top in a matching color, and there was something in there that looked suspiciously like his favorite thread-bare flannel pants that he hadn't been able to find for the past month or so. Finally, she seemed to have gotten her hands on what she was digging for. _

"_What the Hell? Rach, is that …?" His voice trailed off as he watched her toss the duffel bag out of the truck and spread out a – yep – that was an air mattress._

"_You have one of those portable air pump tank things in your truck, right? The kind you plug into your cigarette lighter in case you have a flat tire?"_

"_Yeah babe. I got an air compressor. Mind if I ask why?"_

"_Noah! I would think it would be obvious. I'm not about to inflict that kind of strain on my lungs and throat, and I wouldn't think of asking you to either."_

_Puck stared at his girlfriend in wonder. This girl never ceased to amaze him in one way or another. Right now it was with her ability to believe that she was making perfect sense when really, she was being cryptic as all hell. "Ok. Let's start over. From the beginning this time. Why am I holding a big-ass lunchbox while my tiny, crazy girlfriend fucks around with a deflated air mattress in the back of my truck and asks me for an air compressor?"_

_Rachel sighed and planted her hands on her hips. "Based on my research, the bed of your truck should be just about the perfect size for a queen-sized mattress, which is highly convenient, since the idea of sleeping on the ground with only a layer of rubber and some air between myself and the dirt is not at all appealing. For either of us to attempt to inflate the mattress using sheer lung-power would be exhausting."_

"_Yeah, still gonna need you to go back a bit farther." Did she really think he cared about the logistics of making the mattress fit and getting it blown up? Come on, he had bigger things to deal with here. Like, for starters, what exactly she was planning on needing the mattress for in the first place. 'Cause he had a hard time convincing himself that her plan was what he hoped it was._

_Rachel exhaled slowly and walked over to the side of the bed, leaning down and placing a hand lightly on her boyfriend's shoulder. She spoke softly and slowly, much the way she would to a small child. Or Brittany. "Noah, sweetheart," he rolled his eyes a little at the sappy nickname, one which she (thankfully) used rarely, "I wanted to spend tonight with you. Just you." She stopped for a moment to watch the understanding, and happiness, settle on his face. "And my dads trust me and understand what an important night this is for us, so they agreed. I even talked to your mom, who was just happy to be getting advanced warning that her son wouldn't be home until morning. Obviously we can't just go into a hotel and get a room for the night, and this place is special, both to you and to us. So I couldn't think of a better way to spend this night than out here, under the stars with my incredible, sexy boyfriend."_

_Somewhere in the middle of Rachel's monologue, Puck had, without taking his eyes off her, bent to place the bag, which he was now positive was full of food, on the ground. As soon as she stopped talking, he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her lips to his. He kissed her softly, but passionately, for as long as he could before needing to breathe again. "And I came up with fuckin' Indian food." He scoffed, still holding her so that his forehead pressed against hers._

"_Indian food?" The curious lilt at the end of the question almost made it sound as if she was having second thoughts about her plan._

"_Fuck no baby. We ain't goin' nowhere." After taking over 'bed duty' while Rachel set up the picnic dinner she had brought along, Puck built a fire and didn't even pretend not to watch as Rachel changed into her tiny little pajamas. For the rest of the evening and well into the late-summer dusk, they sat around the fire talking and laughing, having a marshmallow-roasting contest (Puck totally kicked her ass at that one, she couldn't get her marshmallow within a foot of the fire without it bursting into flame), and basically doing anything possible to avoid discussing the thing that was slowly getting closer and closer to eating them both alive._

_The next morning, Puck woke long before Rachel did. He lay on the mattress in the back of the truck, the light blanket Rachel had packed pushed down around their waists and Rachel's upper half nearly covering his own while his arms wrapped snugly around her bare shoulders. Under the blanket he could feel her legs rubbing against his own as she shifted to find a more comfortable position. He relaxed his legs and allowed her to slip one of hers between his thighs, her foot landing on the back of his calf. He smiled into her hair when he felt her chest heave with a deep sigh. He was Puck. He wasn't supposed to get that warm feeling in his stomach just because someone else was this happy. But he did. And he was glad. Rachel was basically the best thing that ever happened to him. He forced away the thought that after that day, he would have to rely on phone calls and e-mails and actual __**words**_ _to know how she was feeling. He reminded himself that it was necessary. She had to leave to make all her dreams come true. If that meant he had to put what he wanted on the back burner for a little while until he was good enough to fit into those dreams, so be it._

_Not wanting to wake her, but needing to do something, Puck began running one hand softly up and down Rachel's back and using the other to finger chords on her shoulder. Almost without realizing it was happening, he began to sing lowly into her ear, kind of hoping that she would just like, absorb the words in her sleep or some shit without actually waking up (again, __**not**__ a pussy, just a kick-ass boyfriend). Just before he got to the final verse, Puck was pretty sure that Rachel had been awake for a good minute. It wasn't much, but damn if he wasn't so in tune with her that he felt the way her breathing had changed and he knew she was just laying there, soaking it all up. Since she was awake anyway, there was no harm in leaning a little closer and singing a bit louder. "I said I love you, that's forever." _

_There was zero room for doubt when he felt her turn her head and press a kiss onto his bare chest. When he felt her hot tears hit his skin, Puck lifted his hand from her shoulder and used it to tip her chin up so that her tear-filled eyes looked back into his own slightly misty ones. "I could not love you any better, I love you just the way you are." He pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered against her skin. "Good morning beautiful." That was all it took to break her, and without warning Puck felt her body begin to shake. He held her for several long minutes as she cried into his shoulder, not saying a word. He told himself that he was just focused on comforting Rachel, but somewhere deep inside, he knew he was afraid that as soon as he opened his mouth, his tears would join hers._

_Pretending that the breakdown hadn't happened, the couple rose from their make-shift bed and packed up their campsite in near silence. The quiet continued on the drive back to Rachel's house. Even the radio was kept so low that they could barely hear it. This was one time when they both knew that anything they said would only make the situation more difficult. So they continued saying nothing, even as they stood on her front porch after Puck had deposited the camping gear in the garage. Finally, knowing they couldn't draw it out any longer, partly because Rachel and her dads had to leave in less than an hour to get to the airport and partly because it just hurt too damn much, Puck kissed her long and slow, somehow leisurely and desperately at the same time. "I love you B." He leaned in and whispered the words hoarsely into her ear, because he really couldn't speak any other way at the moment. He might have come up with something more to say if he had realized it would be the last time he said anything to her._

_**Yeah, we owned the night**_

For the next hour, no one acknowledged that Puck had experienced something resembling a mental breakdown. A couple times Chelsea reached across the end table to loosely grip Maddie's fingers and silently ask her if she wanted to go home. Maddie only shook her head and the second time went to get another beer. The atmosphere in the room never returned to what any of them would call comfortable, but it was almost as if anyone admitting that that something awkward had happened would only make it that much more uncomfortable. But although everyone was kind of on edge, the tension level grew exponentially when NPH introduced some woman the guys had never heard of and the girls were only vaguely familiar with to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role in a Musical.

All eyes went to Puck (subtly of course, well, except for Finn) when Rachel's name was called and the camera panned to her in the audience, flanked by Kurt and Blaine, each squeezing one of her hands tightly and smiling widely at her as she pressed her eyes closed tightly and worked to control her breathing. And then when her name was called again, as the winner this time, they continued to watch as he scooted closer to the edge of the couch and his jaw ticked. So they really weren't surprised when he opened his mouth and the words fell out.

"Knew you'd make it B. Just always kinda hoped I'd be there with ya." Puck got up and left the room before Rachel made it onto the stage, so he didn't see the simple silver bracelet that caught the stage lights when she lifted her hand to grip the microphone, or the tiny gold star that glistened as it hung among the other charms.

Chelsea slid off Finn's lap and onto the couch next to Maddie as soon as she heard Puck's bedroom door close. She had looked at the other girl out of the corner of her eye once Puck had his back to them and it was impossible to miss the tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. Maddie only stood and shook her head at her new friend. "I-I'm just gonna go. Finn, thank you for dinner, but do you have a phonebook so I can call a cab? Nevermind," she continued before he could answer, "I'll just look it up. What are iPhones for, right? Or maybe I'll call Mercedes. I don't know." She spun in a circle in front of the couch, clearly disoriented. "Where … where is my purse, anyway?"

Chelsea stood to put an arm around the other girl's shoulders, but Finn was still glued to his chair, his eyes nervously darting between Maddie's face and the hall Puck had disappeared down. "Oh sweetie," Chelsea spoke in a low, soothing tone that Finn recognized as the one she used when her little sister called, distraught, from college, "don't be silly. Come on, we'll get our stuff out of the hall closet and I'll take you home. Or maybe back to my house. Girl time."

"No no no." Maddie shook her head vehemently. "I'm not going to mess up yours and Finn's night. I can get myself home."

Finn, finally finding his voice, jumped out of the chair quickly and rushed to his girlfriend's side. "It's fine. Really. I have to work early tomorrow, so she would be leaving soon anyway." He looked to Chelsea, a little afraid that he might have hurt her feelings, but she only smiled proudly up at him.

"Besides," Chelsea began, bumping a hip against Finn's, "I don't really wanna listen to the lover's quarrel that I know is going down between Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman later."

Finn threw his arms into the air in exasperation. "Why does he always get to be the man?" Chelsea closed her eyes and shook her head at him, clearly telling him that it wasn't the time. The three made their way toward the front door, Finn stopping to get the girls' purses from the closet along the way.

"Maddie, I'm really sorry. I would never have had Puck invite you over if I had known any of this would happen." Finn held the door open for the girls and looked apologetically at Maddie as she made her way onto the front porch. "I mean," he started again, quickly, "I woulda invited you, but you know, not like, for Puck, and …"

"It's ok," Maddie cut him off before he could go any farther. She may not have known Finn all that long, but it had been long enough to know that he could go on like that for quite a while. He was a very sweet man, but not the best with words. She smiled reassuringly at Finn and rested a hand on his forearm as she turned her gaze to meet Chelsea's eyes. "I mean, I didn't really expect this to be a long-term thing in the first place. Nothing against Puck, he seems like a good guy," Finn scoffed, clearly annoyed with his friend, but she kept talking, "but I never pegged him as a one-woman-man, seemed a little afraid of commitment. Turns out it was the exact opposite problem. He's an only-one-woman-in-the-world-man, and he's been completely committed to her since he was what, 17, 18?"

'_Longer than that,'_ Finn wanted to add, but for once, he got control of his mouth before his foot managed to slip in.

"I could never compete with that. I wouldn't even want to try." Finn finally nodded in resignation and Chelsea slipped her arm back around Maddie's shoulders. "To be honest, I wasn't actually crying _over_ him. I was crying _for _him. For them." Chelsea led Maddie to the car and Finn closed the door behind them. He sighed and walked slowly back to the living room to try to catch some Reds highlights on SportsCenter before he went to bed. After Maddie's comments he wasn't so sure he wanted to lay into Puck anymore. He didn't think he needed to.


	9. Broken

**Broken - Lifehouse**

_**The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight  
>Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time<br>I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts  
>I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out<strong>_

Puck heard the shuffling; he knew someone was in his room, most likely cleaning up the mess he had made. Without lifting his face from his pillow, he groped around until he found another one. Finally getting a good grip on it, he fisted it and flung it in the direction of the noise. "No. Ma, Sarah, out. I'll take care of it. I swear. Just … right now … ya gotta go. I can't do this now."

"Noah, I don't appreciate having my efforts at trying to help make your living space more presentable repaid by you accosting me, both verbally and physically. Even if the physical portion of the assault was just a quite pathetic toss of a pillow."

Ok, so he wasn't expecting that. He still didn't roll over to face her completely, but he turned his head so that the left side of his face rested on his pillow and he had this weird, cross-eyed, double-vision picture of Rachel Berry picking up his C.J. Wilson signed baseball from that Reds vs. Rangers game he went to with Mr. Hummel, Finn, Kurt, and Blaine. What? Just because he lived in Ohio didn't mean he couldn't have good taste. The Rangers rocked, and Cinci, well, they were barely even major league.

Rachel sat the baseball back on its stand and replaced the plexi-glass cover over it before addressing him again. "Your mother and sister went out to get food, and I think Rebecca said something about taking Sarah to your Nana Connie's for the night. The poor girl honestly looked traumatized." She rolled her eyes and kept picking up his personal belongings when his only response was an annoyed grunt. He continued to lie on the bed, unmoving, and watch her suspiciously. (_Really? And he was suspicious of what? Foolish boy.)_ He finally reacted when she picked up his alarm clock and sat it on the night stand, pushing buttons to try to set the time correctly.

"Don't fuckin' touch that," his hand flew out quickly to grab hers before she had the chance to actually change anything, so the bright blue display continued to flash 12:00. "Just," his voice softened slightly and his fingers loosened around her wrist so that he was only holding it and not quite clutching at it, "leave it."

Rachel sighed and let the trash bag in her other hand slide out of her fingers before she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Would you please explain to me why, when I called here an hour ago, I was greeted by your mother's frantic voice telling me it probably wasn't a good time, only to arrive here and be greeted at the door by a _trembling_" she emphasized the word and he flinched a little, "11-year-old who threw her arms around my waist and wouldn't let go for five minutes? Then I come up here to find myself in the aftermath of Hurricane Puck and you … well, what are you doing? Pouting?"

Puck glared up at her, but only pushed himself up onto one elbow, refusing to put forth the effort (or give her the satisfaction) required to actually sit up. "Are you seriously fuckin' asking me that question?"

"Yes Noah. I am seriously _fucking_ asking you that question."

Puck's eyes grew at both her use of the profane word and the bitter tone that accompanied it. He sat up with his back against the headboard and faced her fully, figuring that he owed her at least that much. He had kind of forgotten, or ignored, the fact that he wasn't the only injured party in the room. "I don't want you to fix the clock," he spoke softly and dropped his eyes to his hand, which was currently picking at the threads becoming worn around the knee of his jeans, "'cause if the clock don't work, I can kinda pretend like tomorrow's not coming."

Rachel only sighed and moved farther onto the bed. She didn't say anything as she laced her fingers with his and squeezed gently.

_**I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>With a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain, there is healing  
>In your name I find meaning<strong>_

After what felt like several minutes (although, really, who would know, since he refused to have a working clock), Puck finally made eye contact and Rachel ventured to speak again. "I suppose I can understand that. I can certainly respect it." He didn't smile, but she was sure she saw something less painful flash through his eyes for just a second. "But Noah, you didn't answer my question. What is going on here?"

He jerked his hand out of hers and launched himself off the bed, pacing angrily across the short distance from one wall to the other. "I'm pissed, Rachel!" He nearly screamed at her, but she didn't even flinch. "I'm so fucking pissed I can't even stand to be in my own skin. And you!" he stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her, raising a hand and pointing accusingly in her direction, "I don't understand you! You're just … just … here. You're here and you're fucking cleaning my room like it's nothing. God dammit Rachel! I'm fucking pissed and you should be too! I don't understand why you're not as upset about this as I am!" In an instant, he went from screaming to almost whispering so that Rachel found herself leaning forward to hear him. "I just don't get it. I don't get any of it."

Suddenly looking exhausted, as if he could no longer even support his own weight, Puck turned and dropped onto the bed. Rachel still didn't speak as she crawled slowly to sit beside him. When she reached his side, she sat on her knees, resting her weight back on her heels, and ran her hand slowly from the small of his back up to the back of his neck. When she rested her palm on the base of his mohawk and scratched her nails lightly over his scalp, he turned toward her quickly, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and burying his head in the crook of her neck.

Rachel's fingers continued to play across his scalp as her other hand rose to rub large, soothing circles over his back. He never made a sound, and she didn't even feel him move, but after a few minutes she could feel the hot dampness soaking through her shirt. This was kind of new territory for Rachel; she was not usually the one doing the comforting. And even when Kurt or Mercedes were upset about something, they both used either anger or avoidance to deal with the situation. Some of her best outfits were the result of a fight between Kurt and Blaine. Or Kurt and Finn. Or Kurt and his dad. Or Kurt and anyone, really. She certainly expected Noah to be more of the 'angry-hurting-guy' type, and while that had obviously been the case earlier in the evening, that guy had now been replaced by the just plain hurting young man gripping her waist and crying into her shoulder. Part of her thought that maybe he had exhausted all the anger by now, but really, she believed it had more to do with her and the fact that she was the one on his bed holding him and trying to whisper soothing words into his ear, even if she had no idea what those words should be under the circumstances.

_**The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head  
>I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead<br>I still see your reflection inside of my eyes  
>That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life<strong>_

"You suck Berry." Puck had untangled himself from her arms and was lying on his back with his feet still resting on the floor, staring up at his ceiling fan.

"You're welcome, Noah," she scoffed, back to cleaning up his room, picking up the broken pieces of _whatever_ that were all over his floor and dropping them into the trash bag she had brought up from the kitchen when she first arrived. "Anytime."

"I mean it." He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her from moving to the other side of his room to clean up more of his mess. She let out a long breath and sat down next to him, looking down at his face as she waited for him to speak again. "I'm Puck, ya know?" She only tilted her head curiously and continued to look at him. He rolled his eyes when she didn't just _get it._ "I don't do _feelings_ or whatever. And people don't know what's goin' on in here," he tapped the side of his head. She continued to look at him, through him almost, until he sighed and moved his hand to cover the left side of his chest. He didn't make any more acknowledgement than that, but he was pretty sure she got it.

"But then there's you," he continued after her gazed softened. "And it's like you're just, in there, or somethin'." He didn't specify whether 'there' meant his head or his heart, and she didn't ask. "You just know shit."

Rachel shifted until she was sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking down at him with her hands in her lap. There was so much that she could say to that, but she got the feeling he had more to say.

"Like," she leaned a little closer to him, because he was suddenly speaking very softly, "you shouldn't even be here right now." Her brows furrowed and he shook his head. "Seriously, it's so fucked up that you, of all people, are here right now, picking up my pieces." They both knew he didn't mean it literally, but it was quite a coincidence. "And it kinda makes me feel like shit. Not 'cause I like, don't want you here or 'cause you're doing anything wrong. But just 'cause, well, it's not fair. To you, I mean."

Unsure of why she was doing it, Rachel laid next to him, their shoulders barely touching. It just seemed like the right thing to do. "Noah, I …" She really had no clue what she intended to say.

"But you're here anyway." He continued as if she hadn't spoken or changed her position on his bed. "And I didn't even know I wanted you here, but there you were, and you just looked at me, and it's like all the shit I was trying to say by fuckin' up my room and scarin' the shit outta Ma and Sarah was right there on your face. Just a lot less …"

"Violent?"

"Yeah." Puck's hand found Rachel's somewhere between their hips.

"I hurt too, Noah." He squeezed her hand in response. "This is a horrible situation that we should not have to be in. But we are. And we can go around being angry at each other about it, on top of everything else, or we can take advantage of the fact that there is at least one other person in the world … in this _town_ … who has some clue what we are going through and be there for each other."_****_

_**I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>With a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain, is there healing  
>In your name I find meaning<br>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
>I'm barely holdin' on to you<strong>_

"Do ya hate her?" It had been several minutes of the two of them lying in silence and watching the ceiling fan spin lazily above them when Puck spoke again.

"Which one?"

"Either." Puck didn't realize that his question had more than one meaning, but since she took it that way, he wanted to hear her take on both.

"Well, I don't hate Shelby. I don't think I ever could, even though I convinced myself there for a while that I did." Puck rolled onto his side to watch her as she spoke, but he continued to hold her hand. "I mean, our relationship has greatly improved over the past few months since she has been at McKinley. But even before she came back, I was starting to realize, and appreciate, what she really did by giving me up all those years ago." Puck thought that if anyone else had just said that to him, it would sound trite and patronizing, like they were just trying to make him feel better, but that wasn't Rachel. If she said it, she meant it. "What happened sophomore year was hard, and it really, really hurt, but I have started to understand that, too. So no. I don't hate her."

Puck shifted a little, lifting his hand, and hers by extension, to serve as a pillow under his cheek. "And Quinn?"

Rachel released a long, deliberate breath. "No. I don't hate her either. I guess I … well, I feel sorry for her."

Puck scoffed and Rachel felt his breath skitter across the inside of her forearm. "Rach, you realize this whole shitstorm is all her fault, right?"

"Yes Noah, I fully understand that. And that's precisely _why_ I feel sorry for her." She turned her head to face him for the first time since the conversation had turned to the other two women. Seeing his brows knitted in what she could only assume was painful tension, she lifted her free hand and ran her thumb up the bridge of his nose and over his forehead until she had coaxed away all the lines. "Because you and I, well, we can understand. We know that we did everything right. But Quinn, she's got some … issues … right now," Puck rolled his eyes. That was the understatement of the century. "And she can't see what we can see."

"I don't know about you Rach, but I sure as shit don't understand." His brows were coming together again, and again she lifted her hand to smooth them.

"This isn't the end, Noah, not for you, and not for me. But for Quinn, well, it may not be the _end_ end, but it's going to take a lot of time and a lot of effort on her part for it not to be. And for a long while, forever if she doesn't fix herself, it will certainly feel like the end to her."

Puck rolled away from Rachel onto his back, releasing her hand and interlocking his own fingers over his stomach. It was like she was talking in circles or something, and she wasn't making the least bit of sense. Her 'comforting' was starting to become much less so, and he was _this_ close to telling her to leave. "Berry, I don't know where you been, but this is the end. Shelby, _your mother_, is getting on a plane tomorrow with Beth, _my daughter,_ and they're not coming back. And we got Quinn and all her fuckin' 'unfit mother, I want custody' crazy ass bullshit to thank. And let's not forget my part in this!" He laughed humorlessly, "The one fuckin' time in my life I do the right thing, and this is what I get."

Rachel sat up quickly, folding her hands primly in her lap. She stared at Puck's hands on his stomach and spoke slowly and deliberately. "I talked to Shelby."

Puck shot up as well, one hand gripping Rachel's shoulder tightly. "You … what? I mean, what did you … Shit." Puck scrubbed his free hand down his face before trying again. "Ok, I'm not sure I get it. What do you mean you talked to her? Like, _when_?"

"This morning."

_**I'm hangin' on another day  
>Just to see what you throw my way<br>And I'm hanging on to the words you say  
>You said that I will be OK<strong>_

Rachel met his gaze, trying to keep up the confidence she had felt that morning. She knew she had done the right thing. And as upset as he might be that she did it behind his back, she had nothing to regret. "I went to her apartment this morning just as the movers were leaving. I asked if I could drive them to their hotel." She ignored the way his fingers dug into her shoulder but noticed his look of confusion and answered the unasked question hanging between them. "She didn't want to put Beth through the drive, so she is having her car shipped by the moving company as well. They are staying at the Hyatt out by the airport tonight then taking the shuttle to the terminal in the morning. Anyway," she continued on her previous train of thought, "she actually agreed to my request quite easily. I simply pointed out to her, as I just did to you, that I have done nothing wrong in this situation, and while she may not be my mom, she is my mother. And since we have formed a, well, a _something_ over the past few months, I would like to have some closure when she goes, unlike last time."

Rachel expected some kind of response from Puck, but she got nothing. He did remove his hand from her shoulder, probably realizing that if he didn't he was going to leave bruises (not that she would ever hold it against him, under the circumstances), but he didn't do anything else. "Would you like to know what we talked about on the drive?"

His eyes were wide as he stared at her, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before any words actually came out. "I don't know. Would I?" She nodded her head slowly and he reached for her hands, not sure what he was bracing himself for, but sure that it was something.

"We talked about you, Noah." She watched the emotions sweep over his face; anger, hurt, confusion, hope (mostly hope). When he finally seemed settled on one, or really, a combination of a few (still, mostly hope), she continued. "I reminded her that you hadn't done anything wrong either. You just wanted to be a part of your daughter's life, even if technically Beth is Shelby's daughter now. I didn't point out," she added almost bitterly, "that you went about it in a much healthier way than she did." He almost (_almost_) laughed at that. "And I assured her that you had absolutely no part in Quinn's plans, which I think she was afraid of even though you were the one who told her about it. I think she thought maybe you were playing both sides of the fence, you know?" He lowered his eyes and nodded. He hated that he was that guy (used to be that guy?), the one who people might believe that about, and he couldn't even be mad at her for it.

"But I told her Noah, I swore to her that wasn't you. I told her about that picture on your phone that you go around showing everyone, and about the time you showed up at my front door telling me how awesome my 'little sister' was because she actually played a melody on some toy guitar. But mostly I told her how much you wanted Beth to have a good life that you could just play some role in, even if it wasn't the role of 'father.'"

"What … umm, what did she say?" He kept his head down but looked up at her through his lashes, his hands clenching and unclenching in hers.

"Not a lot," Rachel chuckled as she slipped her hands from his and stood from the bed to make her way across the room toward his desk, where her purse rested. "You know how I can be when I get started." She blushed a little as he nodded his agreement, looking a little deflated that apparently her little speech hadn't really accomplished anything. "But then we got to the hotel, and I went in with her to the business center, and we got this." She walked back to the bed and thrust a computer print-out in front of his face.

He skimmed over the paper, not quite sure how to make out what was in front of him. He had only been on a plane once, and Mr. Schue took care of all that stuff, just handing them each a boarding pass right before they went through security, but he was pretty sure he was looking at a plane ticket or flight reservation or whatever it was you had to have to get that boarding pass. And there were two names on it; his and Rachel's.

"Two weeks," Rachel said, and his head snapped up as she pulled him back to reality. "That's when their house will be ready and they will leave the condo they're staying in until then. And Shelby's going to need a sitter, or two, to help with Beth while she gets everything unpacked."

"Are you … Is this … Shit Rachel." It took a few tries for Puck to actually get out a complete sentence. "Don't tell me you're not serious. Please God be serious." He scooted to the edge of the bed as he spoke, waiting tensely with his feet on the floor and his hands fisting the edge of the mattress for her to answer.

"When have I ever not been serious Noah?" Rachel had more to say, but she had the wind knocked out of her when Puck threw himself off the bed and at her.

"I think I love you, Rachel Berry," he felt her stiffen in his arms and laughed into her hair. "Not like that, geez. You're my kid's big sister. How sick do you think I am?" She smacked him on the back but didn't try to pull away, so he figured she got it. He did love her. At that moment, he loved her more than anyone in the world, except Beth. She had gotten Beth back for him, in some way. No, it wouldn't be the same as having her just on the other side of town, and Chicago wasn't exactly close. But it wasn't exactly far, either, and if Rachel had gotten Shelby to agree to this first visit so soon, he figured she had opened a door for him that he probably would never have been able to get through on his own. So yeah, he loved her for that.

"But Rach," she hummed against his shoulder, "next time, lead with the good stuff." He chuckled into her hair.

Rachel pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "You weren't ready to hear it when I first got here." He only closed his eyes and pulled her back against him.

_**The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
>I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home<strong>_

"Why?"

"Hmm?" Rachel had again returned to cleaning Puck's room, with his help this time. She was still picking up things that were unsalvageable and placing them in the trash bag (along with a few articles of clothing that were WAY past their prime, but she had to be a bit more careful that he didn't see those). Puck was gathering the things he hadn't broken or otherwise destroyed and putting them back in their rightful places.

"Why?" he said again, waiting with his forearm resting atop his dresser to hear her answer.

"Noah, I," she chuckled as she turned to face him from the corner where she was currently carefully picking through shards of glass and wood and trying to save the picture of Puck, Finn, and herself that had been in the frame, when it still was a frame. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to give me a little more to work with." She held the trash bag in one hand and rested the other on her hip, watching him with an expectant smile.

"Why'd you do it? I mean," he sighed, "I get why you went over in the first place, but it woulda been real easy for you to just get yourself back in there. You risked a lot by even bringin' me into it, ya know? She coulda just got pissed and shut you out again. So, why?"

Again, Puck's forehead was creased and his brows were furrowed. Rachel didn't even try to resist the urge to cross the room and gently smooth away the lines. "You must stop doing that Noah. You're going to age yourself terribly."

"I'm sorry," he laughed, "is this better?" He rested his hands on her shoulders and dropped his head so that his forehead rested against hers.

Puck's eyes crossed as they were drawn to movement, and he looked down to see Rachel's lips forming into small smile. "It is if it'll keep those lines off your face."

He laughed and pulled her into a quick hug before moving away from her again. "No more lines, see?" she nodded. "So now will you answer my question?"

Rachel exhaled slowly and took a few steps back until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the mattress. Pushing herself up onto the bed, she thought about her words carefully before speaking. "I couldn't bear the thought that 15 years from now Beth could wake up hating you, thinking you just gave her away because you didn't want her. It's not fair. Not to Beth, and not to you." She internally berated herself for apparently not thinking quite hard enough when she saw a look of panic take residence on his face.

"I … I thought you said you don't hate her? You said you never hated her." One of Puck's hands was clenching and unclenching over a corner of the dresser and the other ran nervously up and down his pant leg.

"I don't. And I didn't. But for a while there, I really thought I did." Rachel slid off the bed and walked back to stand in front of him, sliding one hand over his shoulder and down the length of his arm to slip into his much larger one. "And I don't want that for the two of you for even a second." She squeezed his hand. "But we don't have to worry about that now. You are going to be a huge, wonderful part of that little girl's life. And she's going to grow up knowing that there is an amazing man who loves her and wants nothing but the best for her and has done everything in his power to make that happen. Take it from a girl who grew up with two dads, there is nothing better than that."

_**I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>with a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain there is healing  
>In your name I find meaning<br>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
>I'm barely holdin' on to you<strong>_

Nearly an hour after finally getting Puck's room back to a livable condition and accepting his mother's offer to stay for dinner (to say that she was happy with the state of her house and her son when she returned would be an understatement), Rachel found herself back in his room watching a movie that she should not be enjoying as much as she was. (_"Really Noah, just the name is repugnant. Why on Earth would I want to watch a movie about the negative after-effects of being intoxicated?" "Yeah, you don't get it Berry. 'The Hangover' is awesome. We're watchin'.")_She lay on her stomach with her upper body facing the foot of the bed and the dresser, which held the television. Puck had propped himself against the headboard, his legs crossed at the ankle next to her hip.

Rachel moved a hand to cover her mouth, hoping that Puck wouldn't hear the giggle escaping her throat. Apparently she wasn't successful, because she felt a strong hand circle one of her ankles as her feet kicked casually in the air behind her. Before she had a chance to try to pull out of his grasp, another hand began to tickle the bottom of her foot. "What, you liked that part?"

"Noah!" she squealed, kicking violently and upsetting the bowl of popcorn that had rested between them.

"Not so 'repugnant' now, huh?" Puck's deep laugh rumbled through the room and caused the bed to vibrate a little. The vibrations were lost when Rachel flipped her body and began thrashing wildly, anything to get him to stop touching her foot.

"Noah," she forced out breathlessly. "I … you … STOP!" she cried, shaking with laughter.

After one last attack, Puck let her go, falling back onto his pillows and smirking to himself. He turned his head to look at her when she sighed, satisfied by the way she was still struggling to catch her breath and the mussed appearance of her hair.

"So," he quirked an eyebrow at her when she spoke after finally evening out her breathing, "what does she call you? I mean, I'm guessing 'Dada' is out."

"Well, right now she don't really say much of anything," he laughed. "But when I first showed up, Shelby called me Puck. I put a stop to that real fast," he scoffed. "My kid, whether she's technically sposed to be mine or not, ain't gonna know me as Puck. So then it was Noah, and the last few times it was even 'Uncle Noah.' I think I like it." He smiled, remembering the last time he went to Shelby's apartment and the way Beth giggled from her playpen when her mother announced that 'Uncle Noah' was there.

Rachel giggled and Puck looked down to make sure that he wasn't anywhere near her foot. "What?" he nudged her hip with his knee.

"Shelby always calls me 'Aunt Rachel.'" She kept giggling, and apparently it was contagious. Before he realized it, they were both laughing loudly and Puck had rolled onto his side and was sucking in deep breaths to calm himself. "We have a room." Rachel surprised him by speaking again. He didn't actually realize that she had stopped laughing.

"Oh really?" he smirked and walked his index and middle fingers up her calf until she slapped his hand away.

"Don't be crass Noah. We're talking about your daughter here." It was her turn to smirk when his eyes grew and he shifted away from her. "But yes, really. Shelby's new house is a four-bedroom, so in addition to the traditional guestroom, there is going to be a 'Rachel and Noah' room. Or should I say an 'Aunt Rachel and Uncle Noah' room."

Puck's face grew serious and he pushed himself up to a sitting position, his legs outstretched in front of him and one hand on Rachel's knee. "You serious Rach?"

Rachel propped herself on her elbows, but when she saw the look on his face, she sat up so that her position mirrored his. "Again Noah, I'm always serious. Now, don't get any ideas mister, the room will have two twin beds and Shelby promised me a closet large enough to change in, _with_ a lock. That locks from the inside." She smiled warmly at him as she took in his somewhat befuddled expression. "But yes, we get our own room at Shelby's house. She said that she thought having a place that was ours would help Beth. She will associate us both as more permanent, familial figures that way. I already e-mailed her several pictures of each of us that she is going to print and frame for the room. I think it's a wonderful plan, really."

"It was your plan, wasn't it?"

"Maybe," her face glowed at the confession. "What … what are you doing?" Rachel scooted back a little when Puck began to crawl toward her.

"Chill Rach," he rolled his eyes, "I'm just gonna hug ya." She smiled sheepishly and moved toward him to let him envelop her in his arms. "You're my best friend, Rachel."

Rachel didn't miss the serious tone that thickened his voice. "I thought Finn was your best friend." She smiled into his shoulder when he shrugged.

"Yeah, Finn's my boy." He briefly squeezed her a little tighter. "But you're my best friend. I don't know … I mean, just, thank you."

_**I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
>I'm barely holdin' on to you<strong>_


	10. I'm Only Me

**I'm Only Me When I'm With You – Taylor Swift**

_**Friday night beneath the stars,  
>In a field behind your yard,<br>You and I are paintin' pictures in the sky.  
>And sometimes we don't say a thing,<br>Just listen to the crickets sing.  
>Everything I need is right here by my side.<br>And I know everything about you,  
>I don't wanna live without you.<strong>_

"Thanks for comin' B."

"Of course Noah. Any time. I've told you that before. Your mother, too. And I don't break a promise." Rachel giggled as her friend slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body against his.

Puck let his head fall back onto the bench behind his shoulders, his eyes scanning the stars in the clear, crisp, winter-night sky. "I just … Well, I'm glad it's you. Glad she chose you."

Rachel turned, questions in her eyes, to look at him, but his head was still back and his eyes were still focused on the stars. "Noah," she sighed, "I'm not sure I follow. I mean, who chose me? For what?"

Puck tightened his arm a little around her shoulders, tugging her so that her head landed on his shoulder. He tilted his own head to the side a bit to rest his temple on her hair. "I'm glad Sarah chose you. Ya know, to look up to, to be like. Her role model or whatever."

Rachel straightened her back and pulled away from him slightly to sit up straight. His head rose so he could meet her eyes when her small hand circled around his bicep as much as possible. "I'm her role model?" Her lips tugged upward into a small smile and her eyes shone with moisture. It was obvious how happy that made her.

"Course you are. What'd you think this was all about? I mean, are you secretly a make-up artist on the side or something?" He smirked at her as her smile grew wider. Rachel only shrugged, then shook her head 'no,' as if the make-up thing wasn't completely rhetorical. "Alright, here's the deal, Rach." His smirk disappeared and his voice grew serious. "We don't got a dad. And mom works her ass off, way too many hours." Her eyes softened as she nodded her head slowly at him. "I know you already knew all that. But here's the other thing. I'm a horrible role model." Rachel opened her mouth to object, but he only shook his head and cut her off, "Seriously. Do you know what kind of influence I would be if Sarah was a boy? I can't keep my ass straight and I do dip and throw nerds in dumpsters and do all kinds of other things I'd be ashamed if my little brother did. But the kicker is, she ain't a boy. She's a girl, in the eighth grade, and I might be the worst thing to ever happen to her."

Rachel opened her mouth again, undoubtedly to contradict him, but he waved a hand in the air and kept talking. "Sarah needs a role model, a real girl to help her, to show her what she should be. I'm just glad that girl's you. I mean, Quinn lived here for a few months, and Q's a bitch on the best of days, but Quinn pregnant, holy shit. Not who I want my little sister to be, 'specially not the pregnant part," he grunted. "And I don't even want to think about what would've happened if she had decided that she wanted to be like Santana or Zizes. So really, I can't even think of words to describe how happy I am that, of all the girls in the world, all the girls I've opened her up to, you're the one she decided to follow."

"All I did was curl her hair and brush on a little make-up. It's her first dance, Noah. These things are important for a girl, and it was really no big deal for me," Rachel tried to make light of the situation, knowing that Puck wasn't one for deep, emotional conversations. "I was more than happy to provide that help. It's not like I have a little sister of my own to do these things with, you know." She smiled at him softly before leaning back against the bench and dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

The pair sat in silence, the crickets singing a chorus around them, for neither knew how long. At some point in the evening, Rachel decided that trying to stare at the stars from her upright position on the bench was just too painful, so she slid down until her back was flat on the wooden slats of the bench and the back of her head rested just above his left knee.

When he finally became conscious of the fact that his right hand was running through the silky waves splayed across his thigh, Puck decided that he had to say _something._ Rachel was his best friend, and while they both knew that there was nothing sexual between them (he realized she was his best friend when he saw her walking out of glee one day in the most criminally short skirt he had ever seen and it hit him that although he had shared three classes with her that day, he hadn't once thought of what might be under the skirt), he also knew that someone who wasn't quite so sure of that fact could easily misinterpret their position in his backyard. "So, umm," he cleared his throat raggedly but didn't take his hand from her hair, "where's Finn tonight?"

If Rachel noticed the tension in his voice (and he felt sure that she did, girl noticed everything and she knew him better than his freakin' mom), she didn't let on. Instead she only hummed contentedly as his fingertips grazed her scalp. "Working for Burt. Inventory. Both of the boys got roped in. Blaine too. You kind of saved me," she giggled.

"Yeah?" he smirked though she didn't actually open her eyes to look at him and she nodded her head and laughed almost conspiratorially. "Glad to be of service, then." He waited a moment before speaking again, this silence infinitely more awkward than the long one he had recently broken. "And, uh, when's he gonna be done? I mean, you needa go? Did you tell him …" He cursed himself internally. He may not have been the brightest guy in the world, but he was better than that. Somehow, all that suave smoothness he possessed around chicks disappeared around Rachel. It was like he was a different person, a _real_ person, with her.

"I don't need to go." Rachel continued to pretend that she didn't know he was nervous, uptight about the idea of what Finn might think about the two of them being alone together in his backyard, in the dark, with her head in his lap. She wasn't nervous about it, so she thought that as long as she kept her composure, Noah would eventually follow suit. "I called him as soon as I got off the phone with you to let him know what was going on. He actually accused me," though she made it a point not to pause or even breathe after the phrase, still she felt his fingers stiffen in her hair, "of making it up or at least pushing myself on Sarah just to get out of helping at the shop!" She laughed and Puck let out a breath and resumed combing his fingers through her hair. "I told him to call when he finishes up. And showers," her nose wrinkled involuntarily, "and we'd go from there."

"So, he didn't mind?"

Rachel breathed out an exaggerated sigh. "Noah, you are one of my best friends. Quite possibly my very best friend. Finn understands that. It was a bit difficult in the beginning, given our … our _past_, but I made it perfectly clear to him that while I love him and want nothing more than to be with him, _faithfully_, no pun intended," she huffed; while she loved the significance the song held for them, she hated that no one could mention being 'faithful' without someone making reference to the song, "I have no plans whatsoever of letting go of our friendship."

"Rach, I'm really glad that -," Puck didn't get a chance to finish his thought, because they both turned their heads toward the house when they heard the she screen door bang against the frame.

"Dude!" Puck stiffened as he heard Finn's voice and saw his long legs bringing him quickly toward where he and Rachel still rested on the bench. "How could you?" Puck shifted uncomfortably, anxious to get off the bench so that he at least had a chance at defending himself, but Rachel showed no signs of moving so he could get up. "You call with some bogus little sister drama that gets my girl out of having to do inventory with the rest of us, the least you could do is come up with something for me too! Hey baby," he lowered his voice and spoke to Rachel in the tone he reserved for her.

Rachel felt the tension in Puck's legs relax considerably as Finn talked and Puck realized that, at most, Finn was annoyed that he had to work and Rachel didn't. She heard the deep chuckle that radiated up from his chest and out of his throat, and when his hand lifted completely from her head, she was pretty sure he was flipping Finn off. "Hi Finn!" she called out brightly, trying to break up this juvenile 'fight' before it really got started. She had been in the middle of those too many times before, and since her current position ensured that she would be _literally _in the middle of it this time, probably resulting in their attentions being turned on her and her being tickled until she cried, she couldn't let them get started. "Missed you," she puckered her lips, playfully asking her boyfriend for a 'hello' kiss. Finn only wrinkled his nose and shook his head, making a vague motion with his hand toward her head and Puck's groin as if to say, '_Not when you're that close to his junk._' She only rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

Instead, Finn bumped his fist against Puck's before walking to the opposite end of the bench. He lifted Rachel's ankles off the armrest so that her legs stuck straight up into the air and he dropped into the now empty space. He brought her legs down so that her calves rested atop his own legs and curled a hand over her knee. "So, what'choo guys doin'? Ooh! Puck, did you teach her that game where you try to make up your own new con -, consta-, pictures in the stars?"

Rachel looked between the boys as both laughed lightly. "I think we'll have to come up with some new ones, she probably won't appreciate the ones we used to come up with," Puck added, still chuckling. Rachel groaned and tried get up to go into the house, but with one of her boys on each end holding her down, it wasn't going to happen.

_**I'm only up when you're not down.  
>Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground,<br>It's like no matter what I do.  
>Well you drive me crazy half the time,<br>The other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true.  
>And I'm only me when I'm with you.<strong>_

"I said, _**NO**_!" Rachel stomped her foot and her face grew red as Santana watched from the choir room door in amusement. There were some things she had missed in her time away from New Directions. Seeing Rachel Berry losing her mind was definitely one of them. It was just so freakin' funny to watch the midget flip.

"Berry! Geez, will you just -,"

"No, I will not _just_!" She cut Puck off before he could even finish his thought. "Kiss was fine for your attempt at theatr-,"

"Kiss was awesome theatricality! And wasn't that the point? To learn some … presence, or whatever? Why learn it if we ain't gonna use it?" Puck crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at her. There was no way that he was going to let her win this one.

"God Noah, you're … you're, stubborn, and pig-headed, and just plain incorrigible!" Rachel ripped her hands from her hips just to slam them down onto the piano and stare him down with wide eyes.

And that was it, Puck's breaking point. "AND YOU'RE FUCKIN' INFURIATING!"

Mr. Schuester finally decided to intervene, his hands raised in front of him in a symbol of peace as he made his way toward the screaming duo. Meanwhile, Santana sashayed across the room to join the rest of her recently regained teammates. "Awesome," she smirked as she stepped around Finn and dropped into the seat directly behind Artie's wheelchair. "Maybe as my welcome back gift, Puck is going to finally kill RuPaul and put us out of our misery and once and for all."

"Nah," Artie turned to face her after sharing a glance with Finn. There was a lot Santana didn't know after her months with the TroubleTones, first and foremost being that Rachel and Puck were almost disturbingly close best friends. Puck liked to joke about their 'Jew-Connection,' but some of the others were starting to think there was really something to it. They were just too in synch sometimes. Between both Puck and Finn being almost always on her side, it didn't usually work out well for anyone opposing Rachel. "This is like, foreplay or something."

"Dude!" Finn reached across the space between them to punch Artie's shoulder just hard enough to make him wince. Yeah, ok, kid was in a wheelchair, but that shit wasn't cool and he knew it.

"Sorry," Artie dipped his head and looked up at Finn sheepishly before turning back to Santana. "What I meant was 'completely platonic, non-sexual foreplay.' Totally friend stuff. In five minutes he'll be playing his guitar and she'll be singing and when they're done they'll go on and on about how awesome the other was."

Santana scoffed. "Yeah Wheels, ya didn't really need to add the 'non-sexual' part. That's just assumed when Berry's involved."

Artie smirked and started to say something else, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deep crimson shade that had overtaken Finn's face and the way he was staring at him. He decided that unless he wanted to get punched again, it probably wasn't the best idea to share with Santana how, the weekend before sectionals, the rest of the club had shown up to Rachel's for a pre-rehearsal brunch only to walk in on Finn eating much more than bagels. Besides, that was information that Santana would love to have (she would have never let either of them hear the end of it), and she deserved to be punished a bit for defecting from New Directions, even if she did decide to come back a mere two weeks before regionals. (They didn't doubt that the other club's failure to make it to regionals had more than a little to do with that.)

Neither of the boys said anything else to Santana; they each had their own reasons for disliking the girl, in addition to the obvious almost-screwing-over-the-club thing. Besides, Mr. Schue had finally managed to calm both Rachel and Puck enough to apparently get them to give the song a chance (or to get Rachel to give it a chance, since it was Puck's song in the first place). Puck stood near the band, tuning his guitar quietly, while Rachel leaned against the piano on the other side of the room, gripping the microphone tightly with her back to Puck.

Even when the conversation was pleasant, everyone stopped talking when Rachel and Puck got up to perform. It had been a little awkward when Mr. Schue first suggested that the regionals duet should go to the two friends rather than to Rachel and Finn, but once Finn got over it (which was surprisingly quickly, once the initial shock wore off) everyone else did too. And anyway, once Puck pulled out his guitar and suggested he include it in the competition performance, they all wondered why none of them had thought of that before. After all, Jesse had sat at that piano for like, ages, the first year New Directions went to regionals, and, let's be honest, Puck looks much better playing a guitar than Jesse does a piano. Every song the duo had tried out so far had sounded amazing to the ears of the other glee club members, but every time, the two declared, almost in unison, that the song they had just finished wasn't _it._

To be honest, Rachel had never heard the song she was fighting so hard against. She hadn't even looked at the sheet music Puck had shoved under her nose when he walked into the choir room. Instead, she heard the word 'Kiss' somewhere in his rant about how he had found the 'perfect fuckin' song for regionals' and stopped listening. Sure, 'Beth' was a lovely song, but she knew there was no way he would suggest singing it, and as far as she knew, all their other songs were just a lot of percussion and screaming with the one obligatory guitar solo. There was no way their perfect number could be found on any Kiss album. The only reason she finally succumbed to Mr. Schuester's urgings to give the song a chance was because she wanted to hurry up and prove just how unacceptable it was.

As suspected, the song began with a heavy drum beat and a lengthy guitar riff. By the time Puck finally began to sing, she still hadn't actually looked at the music; there was no way she was going to lead this thing off. As he sang, she tried not to let herself appreciate how good his voice sounded all strained and gravelly. That didn't matter. This was a show choir competition they were preparing for, not a rock concert. But refusing to be anything less than professional (right, because that line hadn't been crossed already …), Rachel picked up her music and skimmed ahead, still listening to the words seemingly ripping themselves from Puck's throat.

As she read, Rachel realized that while the song didn't exactly sound like the ones they would normally use for competition, the words were actually not bad. Without making a conscious decision to do so, and without turning to face him, Rachel quietly joined him for the end of the first verse, her voice really only harmonizing under his as she sang out the words, "'Cause I know what I'm doing, and I know what I want."

Puck couldn't control his smirk when he saw Rachel pick up the sheet music to skim over it as he sang the first verse of the song. He knew it was only a matter of time before he wore her down. See, here's the thing. He knew Rachel. Like, he _knew _her. And he had known, when he heard the song on his iPod the previous night, that she would throw a fit about singing anything by a band as 'un-classy' as Kiss, but that once she heard the lyrics, she wouldn't be able to resist. Fact was, the words were 100% Rachel. Nothing was ever enough for that girl, and she would never ever stop until she had exactly what she wanted. So yeah, "Never Enough?" Perfect song.

When the chorus began, Rachel turned toward Puck to find him standing with his guitar only a foot or so from her. She sang those words with him much more forcefully, shaking her hips a little to the beat. By the time the chorus ended and the second verse was ready to begin, everyone in the room could tell how worked up she was. Taking a few steps back to leave Rachel fully in the center of everyone's attention, Puck let her sing the next verse alone. The girl rocked it, simple as that. She was throwing her head back and stomping her feet to the beat and belting out the lyrics like they were her own personal anthem. (They kind of were.) He hadn't seen her work a crowd like that since the girls did that crazy-hot mash-up of Bon Jovi and the Stones, and for a second the thought crossed his mind that if _show choir judges_ would actually appreciate the sight of tight leather wrapped around those even tighter female bodies, he would totally throw out the suggestion for the girls to dig those costumes back out.

The song finished much more strongly than it had started, both Rachel and Puck fully into it and performing as if their lives depended on it. When they finished to a standing ovation (mostly – Artie couldn't stand and Santana wouldn't), Rachel was breathing heavily, the hand holding the microphone hanging limply at her side and the other pressed tightly to her chest. She opened her mouth to say something once the crowd had quieted, and, afraid she was still going to try to deny that the song was _the one_, Puck cut her off.

"Ok, so I know that like, the solos and duets are usually ballads or some shit like that, but I mean, that'd be kinda weird for us, and you can't deny that this song is awesome. And we still gotta have an anthem anyway, and while this may not be the first thing you would think of, it's totally _our_ anthem," he waved his hand to indicate their teammates, glad to see that they were all smiling and nodding their agreement. "And we can like, take out the guitar solo in the middle and shorten the last couple rounds of the chorus, and maybe everyone else can come in with us the last time around." He spoke quickly, letting the words pour out of him before she had a chance to interrupt. "Besides," he smirked, regaining his composure and returning to his normal pace, "we're a coupla good-lookin' Jews. It's _natural." _He had to laugh when her hand flew from her own chest to his shoulder in an attempt to shove him backward.

"Okay, first of all, Noah," she rolled her eyes, "you can't just keep using that to try to get what you want from me." The argument had become a bit of a running joke between the two, Puck using it any time it was even remotely relevant, and sometimes when it wasn't. He was actually kind of proud of himself this time; the Jewish thing was totally relevant, being Kiss and all. "And secondly," he tried to clear the grin from his face as she continued, "your desire to argue, as usual, is premature and, to be honest, entirely unwarranted. I was actually just going to say that I'm sorry for not giving your song choice a chance in the beginning, and if the rest of the club agrees, I would be happy to perform that number with you at regionals. It was wonderful. _You_ were wonderful."

A collective cheer rose from the club, and even Mr. Schue. They had their duet. They had their anthem. They had their opening number (it hadn't been discussed, but, _duh_). Things were falling into place. "Nah babe," he draped an arm over her shoulder after replacing his guitar on its stand and led her toward the two empty seats next to Finn, who was still grinning up at her like she hung the moon. "_We_ were wonderful."

_**Just a small town boy and girl,  
>Livin' in a crazy world.<br>Tryin' to figure out what is and isn't true.  
>And I don't try to hide my tears,<br>My secrets or my deepest fears.  
>Through it all nobody gets me like you do.<br>And you know everything about me,  
>You say that you can't live without me.<strong>_

Puck waited impatiently after ringing Rachel's doorbell, barely resisting the urge to subsequently pound his fist against the wood. Instead he ran his hands over his wrinkled t-shirt and discreetly checked to make sure he didn't smell. He got a faint whiff of chlorine, but that was ok. At least it smelled clean. He had been in the middle of cleaning the pool at one of the three condo complexes that now employed him when Rachel's dad called. It took him less than a second to pull the rumpled shirt from the waistband of his jeans and jump in his truck. It felt like it had taken him less time to get there than it was taking for someone to open the front door. Seriously, why the Hell was it taking so long for someone to answer the door?

"Noah, thank you so much for coming over." The door swung open and Rachel's father was talking before Puck could even actually see him around the door.

"No problem." Puck nodded at the small Jewish man directly in front of him as he entered the house, then to the taller African-American man standing a bit farther back in the foyer. "Mr. Berry. Sir." He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around as he spoke again. "So, where is she?"

The smaller man spoke again, wringing his hands nervously in front of himself. "She's – she's up in her room. She hasn't come out at all. Leroy heard her through the door when he went to get her for dinner." Puck looked from Hiram to his husband, who only looked back at him, his expression stony. Both men loved their daughter more than life itself, but while to Hiram she was a little star, one to be pampered and showered with praise before being admired from the glow of a spotlight, to Leroy she was his little princess. Leroy wanted his little girl protected; Puck sometimes thought he would wrap her in bubble wrap if he could just to make sure no one or nothing could hurt her. Leroy Berry was probably the only father he had ever met who seemed to prefer having his daughter spend time with Puck than with Hudson, knowing that Puck understood, and even mirrored, his feelings.

"And, I'm so, so sorry to bother you. I know you were working over at the condo, and your job is extremely important right now. With school being over and you leaving in a few weeks you need to save up all the money you can get." Hiram was still talking and Puck wanted more than anything to just blow past him and up the stairs to Rachel's room. He did have some manners though (most of them learned in that very house), and he didn't want to get on either man's bad side. Especially Leroy's. He was definitely the more masculine of the two, to put it delicately. "And of course, we would normally call Finn in a situation like this, you know. But since it all started when he left a while ago -,"

"Wait? Finn was here? And that's when all this started, the freak-out or whatever?" Puck's hands began to clench at his sides. Mr. Berry hadn't told him much of anything on the phone earlier, only that Rachel was in her room, apparently crying, and refusing to come out or speak to either of them. He certainly hadn't mentioned Finn's name in any of it.

"Well, right after he left. She seemed fine until then." Hiram was a relatively fidgety man in general, and especially so under stress. Puck noticed that his hands and feet hadn't stopped moving since he opened the door. He wanted to feel badly for him, but all he could think about was Rachel up there alone. Since Finn left.

"Did he do something? I mean, you don't think he …"

"No." Puck almost jumped when Leroy spoke. He hadn't exactly forgotten that he was in the room, but the older man hadn't said anything either, and Puck wasn't really expecting his voice. He turned toward Leroy as he continued. "Finn may not be the brightest young man I've ever met, but he's sweet, and gentle, and I believe he truly cares about my daughter. He still had that that goofy smile on his face when he left, and he very cordially bid us both good evening. I'm certain he didn't break up with her. To be honest, I'm _not_ certain that he has anything to do with whatever is going on up there right now, but the timing was enough for me to convince Hiram to call you instead."

Puck only nodded. He agreed with Rachel's father. Finn could be an idiot sometimes, but he really was a good guy who was almost sickeningly in love with Rachel. If he was in a good mood when he left, it was almost guaranteed that he didn't do anything to upset her. He lifted his eyebrows and jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the stairs, silently asking permission to go up. Leroy nodded and crossed the foyer to drop an arm over Hiram's shoulders and guide him to the living room.

After taking the steps two at a time, Puck rapped his knuckles gently on Rachel's door. He could hear her sniffling on the other side of it. She shot back a half-hearted refusal, thinking that she was once again speaking to one of her fathers.

"Rach, come on, let me -," he stopped when the door swung open and Rachel fell into his arms. Her gentle sniffles quickly evolved into full-on, body-wracking sobs. Puck walked her into the room, using his foot to close the door behind him, and led her to the bed. He gingerly sat on the edge and pulled her down onto his lap so that her face fell into the crook of his neck, her hands still fisting the fabric of his t-shirt. "Shh, slow down babe. Ya gotta breathe." He rubbed one hand slowly up and down her back, waiting for her to calm down.

Puck sat on Rachel's bed, cradling her on his lap and letting her sob into his shirt, for probably five minutes before he said anything else. When she had finally managed to take several deep breaths without that tell-tale catch in her throat, he ventured to speak again. "Now, you wanna tell me what's goin' on here? Or you just tryin' to give me and your dads a heart attack?"

"It's horrible, Noah." She loosened her grip on his shirt just slightly. "_I'm_ horrible." She still refused to lift her head from his shoulder.

"No Rach. Ridiculous, yeah. Especially now. But you're not horrible. Never. I mean, ya know, that whole crack house thing wasn't your finest moment, but …" He trailed off, hoping that he would get some kind of reaction from her – a laugh, an eye roll, a slap to the face, _something_.

She ignored what she knew was an attempt to get her riled up and distract her from what was really bothering her, and pushed herself away from him quickly to look into his eyes. "You don't get it."

"You're right. I don't. But only cause you haven't told me a fuckin' thing!" He stared back at her with as much force as her eyes held. "So come on," his voice softened, "enlighten me. Let me in." He tapped her temple with his forefinger.

"What if I'm making a huge mistake?" Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper and he tilted his head to look at her, curious. He still wasn't sure what she was talking about. "New York, what if it's … what if I'm not good enough?"

"What the fuck, Berry? When have you ever even _thought_ those words?" He stared at her in confusion. "I mean, shit, you're the most confident person I've ever known. All you've ever talked about is how you're gonna go to new York and take Broadway by storm or whatever. Where's this comin' from?"

"It's Finn, he –,"

"Wait, what the fuck do you mean, 'It's Finn.' He better not've said shit. He better notta toldja you weren't good enough!"

"No Noah, of course not. It's just that, well, he's following me. And in order to be with me while I go after what I want, he's giving up so much – his chance to go to a school here and play football, even in a walk-on capacity, his job working for Burt, he's leaving his family and friends behind. Noah, he's doing all that for me. And you, you're going to New York with us, and you don't even have a college to go to or anything. You're just going to go, and get a job, and play your guitar, and while I'm sure you'll be great at it, it won't be easy. Both of you are going to New York with me, Finn's going _because_ of me, and while I don't expect you to admit it, I know that our going influenced your decision. And what if I fail? What if I'm not good enough, and I fail, and I let Finn, and you, down? Then he gave up all those things for no reason and then he'll hate me. Sometimes I think maybe it was better when no one liked me, because then I didn't have to worry about anything except myself." Rachel had started to sniffle again between words, and tears were running freely down her cheeks. "I can't do it Noah, I can't," she choked out. "I can't let him give up all those things just to go to New York and watch me fail so he can hate me for it later."

"Look at me. Right now." His tone was forceful and she didn't dare refuse his request. "First of all babe, yeah, you guys did influence me. But it's awesome that you won't let me be a Lima Loser. If anything I should be thanking you. Besides, I'm a badass, I'll be fine in New York no matter what happens to you and Hudson." He smirked and she let out a hiccup that sounded suspiciously like a small giggle. "Second, you're being crazy right now. You're not going to fail, Rachel. Will you be perfect and get everything right every single time? No, of course not. No one does. But you sure as shit won't fail. I'd bet everything I got on that. You're amazing." Rachel lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "But, you know what else?" She just stared at him with those Bambi eyes. "Even if you did fail, and you won't!" he added quickly, "Finn would love you just the same. He could never hate you, Rach. Take my word for it. And all those things you think he's 'giving up,'" _shit, he just used air quotes_, "he doesn't see it that way. He's not giving up anything 'cause he'll have you."

"You think so?" She still wasn't quite back to normal, but her voice sounded hopeful, which was much better than any other way she had sounded that night.

"I know so. Much as I fight it, he makes me listen to him talk about feelings and shit. Not as much as you," he rolled his eyes playfully, "but still."

"Thank you, Noah," Rachel smiled and slid off his lap to sit beside him on the bed, reaching for the tissues on her nightstand. "I'm really glad you're my best friend. I can't talk to anyone else like this. I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

_**I'm only up when you're not down.  
>Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground.<br>It's like no matter what I do,  
>Well you drive me crazy half the time,<br>The other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true.  
>And I'm only me when I'm with you.<strong>_

It was bound to happen eventually. They just didn't expect it to happen first semester freshman year. It wasn't common for freshmen to be in Tisch's fall musical, and it was downright unusual for a freshman to land a major role. But of course, Rachel Berry tended not to be 'common' or 'usual.' So when opening weekend of the show fell on the same weekend as Burt and Carole's anniversary, she very sincerely expressed her regret to Finn that she would not be able to go home with him to celebrate the special occasion, but she also explained to him that this was a situation that they would have to get used to and that they should treat this as a learning experience for the future. Finn wasn't happy about it (of course he had wanted Rachel to go with him, she had been at the wedding, she should be there for the anniversary too, and to be honest, he sometimes thought his mom was happier about seeing Rach when they came home on break than she was about seeing her own son), but he couldn't be angry about it either, and it never crossed his mind to ask her to drop out of the show or even give up a few performances to her understudy so she could go with him (which she probably would have done with the right combination of sad-eyes, kisses, and _"but it would mean so much to my mom"_ guilt).

So, the couple came up with the best compromise they could manage. Finn would go to opening night on Friday and accompany Rachel briefly to the cast party afterward before catching the red-eye back to Columbus. Sam had agreed to pick Finn up and let him crash on his couch at OSU for a few hours before then loaning him his car for the weekend to go to Lima. (Rachel sent along a double-batch of 'thank you' cookies for Sam's trouble and promised to show him the same hospitality whenever he wanted to come to New York, ignoring Puck's protests that there already wasn't enough room in the tiny apartment he shared with the couple.) Since Finn had purposely built his class schedule around having only one (unavoidable) Monday class, in which he so far had perfect attendance, he was going to be able to get an extra day at home before returning to New York Monday evening. Finn got to go spend the important weekend with his family, and Rachel got to have her adoring boyfriend in the front row at her first ever New York performance. The only person truly unhappy about the arrangement was Kurt, who now had to make the flight back to Ohio alone because just hearing the words 'red-eye' sent him into hysterics.

Really, the plan couldn't have gone off any better. Rachel was brilliant as Reno in the school's production of 'Anything Goes,' and Finn was front row, center (with Puck only a few rows back – Rachel could only manage to negotiate one front row seat out of one of her senior cast mates) with a gorgeous bouquet of lilies. He was perfectly charming as she introduced him to her cast mates and the crew members at the cast party after the show, and Rachel was gracious and sweet when she saw him into a cab to head back home to get his luggage and then on to the airport. Considering that they both expected the separation to be one of the harder things they had done, they were pleasantly surprised at how well it all seemed to go.

And they continued to be pleasantly surprised on Saturday when Finn called Rachel as he pulled into Burt and Carole's driveway to let her know that both he and Sam's car were safe and sound in Lima. Of course they missed one another, that was a given, but there was no anger or bitterness or any of those other horrible feelings that Rachel secretly feared one of them (her) would experience. So, yeah, all things considered, the weekend was actually going quite well. Until Puck came home Saturday afternoon while Rachel was getting ready to go to the theatre. Then it all went to Hell. Because Puck didn't just come into the apartment. He _burst_ into the apartment, banging doors and slinging curses.

"Fuckin' bitch! Wish she'd just … shit!"

Rachel jumped, almost poking herself in the eye with the handle of her hairbrush as she lifted it toward her bangs. Puck never exactly 'glided' into the apartment, but the way she could hear him moving, almost violently, around the living room told her that this was no regular day. Abandoning her hair and make-up, it would be redone at the theatre anyway, Rachel walked slowly toward the living room and, not seeing him there, into Puck's bedroom.

"Noah?" She peeked around the doorframe and watched as he spun away from his closet and toward her. "I-Is everything ok? I mean, you don't sound good."

"Shitty day, B, shitty day."

"Would you like to talk about it, Noah? I'm a wonderful listener, you know." She slipped quietly into the room and sat gingerly in Puck's desk chair. It was true. She was a wonderful listener, and he knew it. In fact, they had been through this routine several times. Generally when this happened, Puck came home pissed about one thing or another, some days his temper was about as long as the short hairs framing his 'hawk, and as soon as Finn so much as looked at him, Puck would lose it and storm into his bedroom. That's where Rachel would come in, usually easing her way into the room with some kind of edible offering. She would sit in the room for as long as it took to get him to actually talk about whatever was bothering him, not saying a word until he was finished. Sometimes, that was all it took to get him to calm down, just saying it all out loud. Other times Rachel would have to give input of her own, saying whatever it took to get him to look at her with those soft, hazel, _Noah_ eyes again. The exchange could take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour or more. One time, after a particularly horrid conversation with Quinn about Beth (Shelby still allowed the teens to see the toddler on a fairly regular basis, but Quinn had never fully moved on from what they all referred to as 'the breakdown' senior year, so Shelby was much more generous toward Puck, which obviously did not sit well with Quinn), Rachel stayed holed up in Puck's room with him for nearly three hours. The Thai food Finn had ordered for her was long cold by the time she came out and Finn was actually in bed, but she didn't mind. Puck was her best friend, and having him hurting was almost as hard on her as it was on him.

"Don't you gotta get to the theatre?" His words sounded confident, but Rachel could see the hope in his eyes. He wanted her to say no.

"I've got time Noah."

Puck blew out a long breath before starting. "So you know how I been kinda hangin' out at that studio, where that producer said he liked my playin' and might be able to get me in some time, ya know, if they really needed somebody?" Rachel nodded. She did know. That had led to a totally different type of night in the Hudson-Berry-Puckerman residence. Puck had been playing in the music store where he worked part-time when some relatively important producer came in to buy some emergency guitar strings. The producer had taken a quick liking to Puck and told him that he might be able to get him a studio musician job (back-up to start with, of course) if one of the regulars was ever unavailable. Since then Puck spent probably 80% of his free time in the studio just waiting for someone to need him. The producer really didn't seem to mind; he wasn't lying when he said that he liked Puck, and he really wanted to get him into the business before someone else inevitably snatched him up.

"Well," Puck continued, "I thought it was my fuckin' lucky day. One of the guys had a massive fuckin' hangover. I mean, he said he was sick, but I know hangovers, and that's what that shit was." Rachel barely flinched at his language. She was used to Puck by now, and when he was angry, she knew it was best to let it go. "So I thought I was gettin' my fuckin' chance. I went in, got tuned up, shit Rach, I was ready." She smiled softly at him. So far, it all seemed like good news, but she knew the other shoe had to drop somewhere in there. "Then this little pop-princess diva bitch, and _no_, I will _not_ tell you who it was, comes strutting in. At first she's all sugary sweet, sayin' all the right shit to everybody. Then her eyes zone in on me and she's like a fuckin' wolf. I mean geez Rach, she made me feel bad for every girl I ever tried to hook up with. I didn't realize that's what I was doing to people!"

"Wait!" Rachel's eyes were wide and her voice dripped with shock. She didn't know if she was more surprised by what he was saying (miss pop-princess diva was coming onto him) or what he wasn't (he actually felt bad about treating girls like his own personal toys). "She was hitting on you?"

"Fuck yeah she was hitting on me!" Puck, who had been steadily pacing a path from his closet to the bedroom door then to the dresser and back, dropped onto his bed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"And …" Rachel tried to think of a delicate way to say what came next. "That was … a problem?"

"Yeah, ok, normally I'd be all over that shit." Rachel lowered her head to hide her smirk. He didn't need to tell her that. She was his best friend after all, she knew him better than anyone. "But this is different, B. I mean, this shit is important to me. I'm tryin' to show these people that I'm like, professional, here. My future's way more important than some easy lay, ya know?" She only nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Besides, she was all green eyes and fair skin and blonde hair in a high, tight ponytail, and I could tell after two words how fake she was. I don't need that mess."

Rachel stood from the chair and crossed the room to sit next to Puck on the bed and run her hand lightly over his back. One part of her wanted to tell her friend how proud she was of him for gaining the maturity that she was currently seeing in him, but the rest of her just wanted to hug him and whisper promises that everything would be ok. She settled for continuing to rub his back and waiting for him to finish his story.

"So here I am, tryin' to be like, professional and polite and let her down easy and shit, and she just loses it. Seriously! Once she figured out that I wasn't gonna bring her back here and, like, rock her world, or whatever," Rachel could tell he was really bothered by this situation, because he had much better innuendos than that, "she flipped. She started screamin' about how she'd never heard of me and I couldn't possibly be good enough to work with her and, whatever. I just kinda stopped listening. Finally, they said maybe it was best if I leave."

"Oh Noah, I'm so sorry. Really, that's awful and unfair and it never should have happened to you. If she had listened to you play for even a minute she would know what I know, which is that you are incredible, and she never would have let you walk out of that studio."

Puck slipped an arm around Rachel's shoulder and tugged her to him so that her head dropped to his shoulder. "Thanks, B. I'm just scared, ya know?" Rachel didn't answer, nodding her head silently. "I mean, Jeff said he'd call if another chance came up, but they probably won't even let me back in the place now. What if I blew any chance I ever had? I don't wanna be stuck sleepin' on yours and Hudson's couch for the rest of my life."

"Oh Noah," Rachel lifted her head and waited for him to turn and look her in the eye, "don't be silly. You'll always have a room, wherever we live."

"Cute, B." Puck leaned into her and nudged her with his shoulder. "But seriously, what if I just blew my one shot?"

"Noah, you didn't blow anything. Trust me." Rachel lifted a hand to the back of his head to run her fingertips over his scalp. "You're an amazing musician, and apparently, quite professional. You're going to make it. And if Jeff doesn't want you back when you show up there on Monday afternoon, then someone else is just going to snatch you up and he'll be the one to regret this day, not you." Puck squeezed her shoulder with the hand that was wrapped around her and dropped a soft kiss onto her hair.

As far as "Puck calming sessions" went, that one was pretty average. After another 10 minutes of Rachel listening to him say quite disparaging things about the young woman whom he had tried to work with that day and her offering him sincere and heartfelt, and completely truthful, reassurances that he would have plenty of opportunities to make it as a musician in the future, the two were laughing about something asinine that the starlet had said before she had him kicked out of the studio. Rachel had long ago stopped getting that feeling of accomplishment when she managed to talk him down from whatever ledge he was on at the moment, and instead felt only peace and happiness when she literally saw and felt the tension slide out of his body.

"Alright B, time for you to go." Rachel followed Puck's line of sight to the alarm clock on his night stand and realized that she needed to be in her make-up chair at the theatre in just over 20 minutes. She nodded her head before standing and crossing the room toward the door. "You needa get ready for your show," Puck stood and followed a few steps behind her, "and I need a beer."

Rachel stopped cold two steps from the doorway. "Oh no!" Her hand flew to her mouth and she spun on her heel to face him.

"What?" Puck's eyes grew and he looked a little panicked. "You're not late are ya? I mean, you had to be there at five yesterday, I just figured …"

"Finn's not here." Rachel's hand fell away from her mouth and both hands began twisting the hem of her shirt. She wouldn't meet his eyes and she looked oddly guilty.

"No shit B. Where you been?"

"No, Noah," she whined. "Finn. Isn't. Here."

"Rach," Puck sighed. "It's fine. Really. You go to your show, I'll have a couple beers, and if I get really bored, I'll come watch you." He gripped her by her shoulders and spun her so she was again facing the door.

Ok, so the problem was that Rachel's heart-to-heart was only one half of 'Operation Fix Puck's Shitty Day.' Once Rachel had him calmed and feeling better about whatever it was that had Puck so pissed off, Finn always took over for Part II. It didn't always happen immediately, but if Finn was not around or was unavailable, it _always_ happened no later than the following night. Finn's job was simple: find a bar, entertain Puck while he drank until didn't want to anymore, then get him back home safely. Both members of the couple agreed that they were more than happy with the arrangement and wouldn't want to trade jobs for anything.

"No." Rachel planted her feet and crossed her arms over her chest.

"No? You mean I can't come to the show?"

Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course that's not what I meant Noah. You know I would love nothing more than to have you in the audience again. But I can't just leave you hanging out to dry. Finn won't be home for two more days, and that's just unacceptable."

"Well babe, we can't just blink our eyes and get him back, so I don't think we have a choice."

"Of course we do. I'll go out with you. After the show of course, but we'll do it. I want to do it." Puck didn't miss that Rachel was wearing her determined show-face, and he wondered how much she really wanted to do it, and how much she wanted to do it just because it was what she thought he needed. Sure, going out with Finn was always an integral part of making him feel better (just as the same routine was a crucial step in cheering Finn up when he had a bad day at school, and curling up on one end of the couch while Rachel snuggled in Finn's lap on the other end with vegan hot cocoa and a Barbra movie was the only way to reassure her when she was feeling inadequate about something), but he didn't want her to put herself out just to make it happen.

"You sure B? You don't have to, ya know. I promise I'll be fine."

"I'm positive." Her smile shifted a bit from determined to sincere and it reached her eyes more. "Santana would be so proud of me." Santana's parting gift to the three just days before they left Ohio was a surprisingly authentic looking set of fake ids. Rachel had insisted that she had no plans to use such a thing and tried to avoid even taking the card from the Latina, but Santana shoved it in her back pocket and insisted that she keep it, "in case of emergency." Rachel had absolutely no clue what kind of emergency could require the use of such a thing, until Finn came home with his first (and so far only) college F. Puck had insisted on getting Finn out of the apartment and getting his mind off the failed paper, but Finn had refused to go anywhere without Rachel at his side. To say that Rachel was apprehensive when they first got into the bar would be an understatement, but Puck got a glass of wine into her and she quickly loosened up just enough to be fun. She hadn't used the id again since, but Puck's day from Hell felt like as good a time as any.

"Since when do you care what Satan thinks?" he scoffed. "Besides screw her pride, you're _my_ best friend, and I'm damn proud. And grateful. Don't know what I would do without ya babe."

_**When I'm with anybody else it's so hard to be myself.  
>Only you can tell,<br>That I'm only up when you're not down.  
>Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground.<br>It's like no matter what I do,  
>Well you drive me crazy half the time,<br>The other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true.  
>And I'm only me,<br>Who I wanna be,  
>Well, I'm only me when I'm with you.<br>With you.**_

A night at the theatre wasn't exactly Puck's idea of "cheering up," but Rachel was so excited about her plan that he couldn't tell her no. Besides, she only made him go so that they could go out immediately after, and she promised to let him pick the place. He teased her that she would regret that later, but truthfully, all he wanted was to drink a few (several) beers and shoot some pool or maybe throw a few darts. There was actually a really cool, low-key bar just off-campus that was perfect for that. Rachel had never been there, but Puck had been several times with Finn after scouting out all the places around NYU and their apartment to find the ones that were safe for them to use their fakes, and he didn't think she would hate the place. Sure, the night was supposed to be about him and helping him erase the day from Hell, but he knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless she did, too.

Rachel got out of her costume and washed her face in record time. She even _almost_ blew off some girls from her English class who stayed after the show to tell her how well she did. (Really, it would have been incredibly rude to ignore them altogether, but she did make it a point to keep the conversation as short as possible.) She was meeting up with Puck in the lobby only 10 minutes after the last curtain call, the fastest she had ever managed to leave a theatre.

Puck had been a little worried that, for all her good intentions, Rachel would not be the best "boys' night out" companion. She was, after all, not only _not _a boy, but she was probably the girliest, most un-boy girl in the world. He was wrong. Sure, she had pouted a little when they walked in and he headed straight for one of the open pool tables because she had no idea how to play. But then he offered to teach her, and she gave him that awesome Rachel smile before skipping off to the bar to get their first round (vodka and water with what looked to be 15 lemons and limes for her, Yuengling for him – he hadn't known beer could actually taste good until he left Ohio).

Teaching Rachel to play pool may just have been one of the most interesting things he'd ever done. It had been so long since he'd seen her do something she wasn't already amazing at that he almost forgot such things existed. Her first few strokes were awful, barely moving the cue ball six inches. Finally she gave in and let him hold her from behind, guiding her arms with his own. Once she had the correct form and was actually following through on her shots, she was able to really move the cue ball across the felt and actually make contact with one of the colored balls. The first time she knocked a ball into one of the pockets, she squealed and jumped to throw her arms around his neck, her smile nearly splitting her face in half. He didn't bother reminding her that she was solids, or that the 14 was almost as far off as she could get. By their third game, she had actually managed to sink three of her balls (and one of his) before he won.

For the first hour or so, a waitress kept stopping by every time Puck's bottle was less than half full. However, she soon realized that he was paying much more attention to the tiny brunette sharing his table than to her and left them to take care of their own drinks. Shortly into their fourth game, a very polite blonde gentleman stepped up to the table to ask if Rachel might possibly let him have a round with Puck, since there were no other open tables, and his girlfriend didn't really want to play anyway. The sweet looking redhead waved at her from the bar-top table the couple had been sharing and Rachel happily agreed; she could already tell that it would be difficult for her to lift her arm enough to even dry her hair in the morning. When Puck had three balls left and it was pretty clear that she wasn't going to be getting another turn, Rachel excused herself to the bar to get another round for them and their new companions.

Puck didn't realize that Rachel had been gone for a full game and several strokes into the next. Mark was a much better player than her, and Puck was enjoying playing with him so much that he didn't really notice when he finished the beer he was working on and there wasn't another one waiting for him. In fact, he didn't notice much of anything until Mark's girlfriend Katelyn, whom he had assumed had been talking to Rachel while the two men played, appeared at his side.

"Umm, excuse me," Katelyn tapped him timidly on the shoulder and looked up at him sheepishly from beneath her lashes when he turned to face her.

"Oh, hey," Puck unconsciously scanned the room when Katelyn requested his attention and he didn't see Rachel at her side. "What's up? Wanna play with your boy? We're almost done here, just let me sink these last two and show him how a real man does it." Puck chuckled and Mark only scoffed good-naturedly and rolled his eyes.

"No, umm, I just … well, you might want to go rescue your girlfriend."

"She's not my -," Puck started, but stopped abruptly when his eyes followed the path marked by Katelyn's lifted arm. "Shit." He tossed his stick onto the table and began making his way determinedly toward the bar, where Rachel was currently being fenced in by the arms of some preppy-looking, bow-tie-wearing douche. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder, "table's all yours."

Rachel's eyes, which had been dangerously close to bugging out of her head ever since about the fifth word out of _Brad's_ mouth (and really, what kind of name was 'Brad' anyway – a snobby one with no character, just like its owner), softened dramatically when she saw Puck headed in her direction. She had tried to handle the situation herself without disturbing him, since it was supposed to be his night and all, but if she had to tell this Neanderthal one more time that she wasn't interested or that she had a boyfriend, her version of 'handling it' would be a knee to the groin.

"Hey B, what's up?" Puck sidled up to the pair at the bar and unceremoniously lifted one of Brad's wrists so that his hand came away from the wood of the bar, freeing up one of Rachel's sides. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her so that she was barely on the stool, his hip supporting almost as much of her weight as the seat was.

"Yeah, um, who are you?" Brad did not seem happy to have his efforts at getting Rachel interested in him thwarted by Puck. He left one arm propped up on the bar at Rachel's side while shoving the other hand in his pocket, an attempt at nonchalance.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Puck feigned sincerity while Rachel watched him, a little afraid of what would come next. He reached into his back pocket with his free hand and fished out his wallet, holding it in front of him and flipping it open so that Brad could see the clear plastic window reserved for identification. "Wanna see my id?"

Brad rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath. "Smart ass."

"No, really," Puck insisted, still putting on a face of pure innocence, "here, look at my driver's license, then Rach'll show you hers, and you can see that _we have the same address."_ Any humor or good nature dropped from his voice at the end, and he sounded only cold and hard as he leaned a bit closer to Brad.

Puck could only smirk, and Rachel had to lower her head to hide her face, when Brad's eyes almost doubled in size and he lifted his hands to back away in defeat. "Right, umm, yeah, I'm just gonna," Brad was gone before he actually finished his sentence. If anything, Puck was in better shape than he had been in high school, and he didn't hesitate to use his intimidating stature to his advantage. He was not the 'boyfriend' that a random guy in a bar would want to have to answer to.

"I still can't believe you said that," Rachel giggled, burying her head in Puck's shoulder an hour later. They had practically followed Brad out of the bar, and were resting on their couch in their pajamas only 20 minutes after Puck had scared him away.

"What, it's true ain't it?"

"Well, yes …"

"Rach, even if my boy wasn't in love with you, you're still my best friend, and I could never let you hook up with a guy like that. Did you see his hands?"

"I-I shook his hand. What does that have to do with anything?"

Rachel gasped a little, surprised, when Puck reached under the blanket she was clutching to her chin and grasped her hand in his own. He only laughed at her and let his head drop back onto the back of the couch while he waited for her to relax. For a girl who had been best friends with him for damn near two years now, she still managed to somehow work herself up every time he touched her or sent a (completely innocent, harmless) sexual innuendo her way. If she wasn't Rachel, all innocent and head over heels in love with Finn, he might be offended. "Okay," he sighed, once he finally felt her relax and grip his hand back, "feel the difference?"

"Well," she hesitated, "yes. I mean, Brad's hands were very smooth, very soft. Yours are, well, I don't mean to be rude, Noah, and you know you're my best friend, but your hands are quite callused."

Puck rolled his eyes behind his closed eyelids. Seriously? He was proud of his calluses. "Yeah. And what about Finn? Are his hands _soft_ like Brad's?" He knew his voice was mocking, but Hell, when wasn't it when he was talking to Rachel? That's just who they were. He wouldn't have it any other way, and while she might complain about him and ride his ass about 'living up to who she knew he was on the inside,' he knew she wouldn't either.

Rachel hesitated a long moment before saying anything. She didn't know how to answer that question, exactly. She loved Finn, and he deserved to have a good girlfriend who stood up for him, but she couldn't lie to Noah either. "Well … they're, I mean I guess, well, no. Finn's hands aren't _quite_ as soft Brad's, but -,"

Puck's laugh cut her off. "It's ok, B. You're not insulting him. 'S kinda my point, actually. I mean, my hands are all covered in calluses from my axe, and the pool cleanin' and random construction shit I done. And Finn's might not be callused like mine, but they ain't all baby smooth like _Brad's_ either. I mean, he's done his share of real work, ya know, with Burt at the shop and stuff. And drums ain't a guitar, but the friction keeps his hands from bein' like, like … an accountant's or something."

Rachel only stared at him, his head still lolling back on the couch. He must have felt her watching him, because he sighed deeply and picked up where he had left off. "Babe, no guy with hands like that could handle you. You're as high maintenance as they come, Rach, and you need somebody who ain't afraid to get a little roughed up. And don't pull that face on me." Puck's eyes were still closed, but he knew that Rachel's nose was wrinkled up like a rabbit or something and her jaw was nearly to the floor. He pulled his hand from hers and slid it out from under the blanket to drop it across her shoulders. "That's why you got me and Hudson. We love ya anyway."

There were so many things in Rachel's mind, so many things she wanted to say to him for calling her 'high maintenance,' but she knew that she couldn't really say anything at all. It certainly wasn't untrue. And he did say he loved her anyway. So instead, she only settled against him so that her shoulder was tucked into his underarm and her head rested on his shoulder. She watched the news in silence for several minutes, almost waiting to feel his breath even out and his weight slump against her. When it never did, she spoke up again. "I'm really, truly in love with Finn, and I can't imagine my life without him, you know?"

Rachel said the words as a question, but Puck heard them almost as more of an accusation. He shot into an upright position and pulled his arm from her body, resting it on the back of the couch. "I know that Rach! You think I was tryin' somethin' here?" His eyes were wide and his voice was laced with shock and near-anger. She only continued as if he had said nothing.

"But I love you too. Obviously, in a different way, but it's true. You're like, my rock, to quote a dangerously overused cliché. Finn lets me fly, and while you are wonderfully supportive and have always pushed me to pursue my dreams, you also keep me grounded. So I can't picture a single second of my life without you in it, either."

"Yeah, well," the tension left Puck's body as quickly as it had flooded it and he sank back down with her, "I'm just glad Finn let me _stay_ in it."

What started out as a soft smile spreading across Rachel's face soon erupted into a fit of giggles.

"What the Hell's so funny?" Puck craned his neck to see her face, which was almost buried in his chest.

"Remember that night back before Christmas, when I came over to help Sarah?" Puck almost didn't catch the first part, but by the time she hit the word 'Christmas,' Rachel had almost stopped laughing.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"When Finn was driving me home, he said the same thing about you."


	11. New Favorite Memory

**A/N: I know most of you won't be familiar with this song, because it isn't even on the radio. I highly suggest that you go listen to it before you read this song, because while the words are obviously here, hearing the song just kind of makes the story, in my opinion. It is beautiful. **

** New Favorite Memory – Brad Paisley**

_**You're fumbling around in the bedroom,  
>Trying to put on your shoes,<br>Hair still down, dress half on,  
>Looking like you're about to blow a fuse.<br>I know what's about to happen,  
>I can read you like a book,<br>You're about to shoot that cute little "yeah, we're late" look...**_

The first thing Puck heard when he walked into the apartment was a crash (_please be that god-awful lamp by the nightstand) _and a loud "Ow, shit!" That couldn't be good. At 22, Rachel still believed that cursing was 'not only crude and unnecessary, but made the speaker sound downright unintelligent.' He never failed to point out that she couldn't seem to control the string of curse words that left her mouth when she was writhing beneath him (or on top of him, he wasn't picky), and yet she was anything but unintelligent in the bedroom. That never changed her argument.

He made his way tentatively toward the bedroom, a little worried about what he might find. He loved his girl more than anything, but he was the first to acknowledge that the closer opening night got, the more volatile she got. He never said more than necessary about it, he knew what a big deal this was for her and, though she tried to hide it, she still had her fair share of insecurities. And no matter how much she argued with him about it, he still felt a pang of guilt about that from time to time; he would always feel partly to blame. So with the exception of that time her bad rehearsal ended with a hairbrush whizzing by his head (she wasn't _exactly_ aiming for him, it was more like bad placement, but still), he just let her be bitchy then held her and stroked her hair and back until she cried herself to sleep afterward.

Puck pushed the door open slowly and peeked around it into the room. Rachel sat at the end of the bed cradling her right foot in her hands, apparently inspecting whatever injury she had just endured. "Baby? Everything okay in here?" His heart swelled a little when she smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. The red cocktail dress he had helped her pick out ("_'S fuckin' hot, baby."_) was on up to her waist, the top half gathered around her hips so that her upper body was clad only in a lacy bra that matched the hue of her dress perfectly, and she was wearing only one shoe. There were some things he would never understand about women, even _his _woman, like why on earth she would move on to one part of getting ready when she was only half finished with the previous part. But as he took in the view, he wasn't complaining either. He knew she wasn't 'finished' with her hair either because it was still flowing freely around her shoulders, but he hoped to get her out the door before she could do anything about it, and that had almost nothing to do with the fact that they were already late.

"Yes Noah, everything's fine. I was just having some trouble with these shoes," she kicked the offending right shoe with her already stiletto-clad left foot, "and when I reached out to Aunt Jo's lamp for help, it just refused to comply." Puck smirked at her; she still used way too many words, but shit was witty sometimes. (_And, bonus, it _was _that hideous lamp in pieces on the floor.)_

He crossed the room and knelt in front of her, brushing her own hands away gently and cradling her foot and calf in his. She flinched when his thumb brushed over the inside of her ankle. "I lost my balance and banged it on the corner of the nightstand. It's fine, really, probably just going to leave a bruise." He squeezed her calf gently with his left hand for good measure before lowering her foot gingerly to the floor.

"Alright, I gotta go take a leak," he grabbed the mattress on either side of her hips and used the leverage to push himself back up to stand in front of her. "Try not to get in a fight with the dresser while I'm gone, 'k slugger?" He smirked again and kissed the top of her head, grabbing her wrist and squeezing when she reached out to swat at him.

"Babe," he called out from across the hall, slipping his phone into his pocket, "Blaine keeps textin' me." He walked into the room, still adjusting his belt, to find Rachel hopping on her left foot, her right leg bent up behind her and her right hand tugging at the heel of the shoe that was apparently still plaguing her. "Everybody's on their way." He covered it pretty well, but he knew she could still hear the amused lilt to his voice.

Rachel dropped her right foot to the floor, her designer stiletto sandal falling and landing unceremoniously on its side. She planted both hands on her hips and looked back at him, lips pursed and head tilted to the side. She didn't say a word, but he heard, clear as day, _'Yes Noah, I know we're late. But do you really expect me to leave the house looking anything less than impeccable?'_ And no, he didn't expect her to leave the house looking anything less than impeccable, because she never did. It wasn't possible. "Maybe we just shouldn't go. We're late anyway, maybe it would be best if we don't keep them waiting and just let them have dinner without us." Her gaze shifted from him to the bed, suddenly very interested in something there that he couldn't see.

"Baby," Puck groaned and rolled his eyes, letting his head drop back for a moment before walking to stand behind her. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder before reaching around her to tug the straps of the dress up and over her arms. "Mine and Blaine's apartment and Kurt's condo are playin' host to half the 2012 graduatin' class of McKinley High right now." He zipped the back of the dress. "And they're all here to see _you_, little girl."

"Ten people is hardly half the class, Noah," she tried to sound stern, but her head fell forward in response to the way his hands moved across her shoulders, and she knew he wasn't buying it.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "they're the only ones that matter; the only ones smart enough to get their asses up here to see my girl's opening night before she gets so famous there's like, a waiting list, or some shit." Rachel whimpered softly when Puck's hands left her body, but he was in front of her before she could truly protest. "Now, you're gonna finish getting ready, and we're gonna go have dinner and drinks with our oldest friends, and you _are_ gonna enjoy yourself." He kissed her quickly on the lips. "Got it?" She bit her bottom lip lightly to hold back her smile and nodded. "Good."

Puck held her face in both his hands and drew her head forward to kiss her forehead before lowering himself to his knees in front of her. Rachel didn't say anything, just tilted her head and watched him curiously as he first picked up her discarded shoe with his left hand, then lifted her foot off the floor with his right. She continued to watch, transfixed, while he slid the shoe under her foot before lowering the same foot gently onto it. He wiggled the shoe over her toes then worked the clasp with nimble fingers, opening then reclosing it once he had secured the strap around her ankle. Before he stood, he slid his left hand up the back of her calf, stilling his movement just behind her knee.

Rachel felt goosebumps prickle her skin in response to the feel of Puck's warm hand sliding up her leg. She couldn't take her eyes off him; she was drawn like a magnet to even the simple act of him helping her with her shoe. She continued to stare even as his eyes closed and he leaned forward to press his lips warmly against her thigh, just below the hem of her dress. "I love you, Noah."

"Love you too, babe." His hand tightened once more around her leg just before he stood to drop one more kiss to her temple. "Now let's get movin'."

_**And there it is,  
>Baby, don't move,<br>I wanna soak this in,  
>I've got a new favorite memory of you.<strong>_

_**~.~**_

_**Driving through town, running red lights  
>You take my hand in the car,<br>Finally make it to the restaurant,  
>And our friends are two drinks in at the bar.<br>I know what's about to happen,  
>Yeah, folks don't change that dial,<br>She's about to light the room up with a laugh and a smile...**_

The taxi rolled through what Rachel knew was the last stoplight before the restaurant where all their high school friends were waiting just as it changed from yellow to red. "Noah, maybe … Maybe we should just go back home. We don't have to do this." She reached across the short distance between them to slide her hand into his.

Puck lifted her hand to his lips. "Screw that. I'm payin' for a cab, we're goin'."

"But, what if …" she stopped even trying when the cab pulled to the curb and Puck opened the passenger side door, pulling her gently across the seat and out of the car.

"Thanks man. I got your number. Call ya when we're done here." Puck reached through the front window to pay the driver, quite possibly the first he'd had since moving to New York who didn't make him fear for his life every second of the way (slight ignorance of a few red lights aside). "Baby," he turned Rachel's head from where her eyes were still following the cab as it pulled away, "these are our friends, remember? Rach, who slashed 26 sets of Range Rover tires?" Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes, trying to pull away from her boyfriend. "Okay, bad example. But who ran, singing and dancing, through these very streets with you the _first_ time you got to perform in New York?" He watched her eyes soften as she looked back at him. "And who had your back when you squeezed that cute little ass in a football uniform to face guys three times your size, at least."

"You," she murmured weakly.

"Nope." Her eyes shot up at him almost accusingly. "I mean, yeah, me. But also Finn, and Artie, and Mike, Sam, Tina, Mercedes and even Lauren." He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, his wrists crossed at the small of her back so that his fingertips brushed the top of her butt. "Baby, in two days you're makin' your Broadway fuckin' debut. They just wanna share that with you, to support you. You don't want to take that away from them, do you?" Puck smirked as she huffed and turned on her heel toward the entrance of the restaurant. He swore he heard her mumbling something about 'stupid Jewish guilt.'

Puck almost felt bad for the other patrons, because the small restaurant practically exploded with noise when he and Rachel walked through the door. All their old friends were lingering around the bar when Brittany spotted them coming in.

"Puckleberry!"

"Rachel!"

"Hey guys!"

"Puckerman."

"Ohmygoshcongratulations!"

Rachel's mood visibly lifted as the greetings kept coming and their friends rushed them, Brittany and Tina almost knocking her over when they raced to give her a hug. Puck hung back a little as the obviously flustered hostess corralled the group and began to lead them to their large round booth in a back corner of the dining room.

"She nervous?" Blaine sidled up to him after draining the last of his vodka tonic and handing the glass to the bartender.

"Dude, you have no idea. She tried to talk me out of coming. I think she was more nervous about this than the actual show Friday."

"She looks good now. Happy."

Puck only hummed and nodded in response. She did look happy, Brittany clinging to one arm possessively and Sam, Mike, and Tina all trying to claim her attention on the other side.

"Did you ask her?"

"Yep. This morning."

"And?" Blaine arched an eyebrow at his friend and longtime roommate, grinning at the look of content on Puck's face as he watched Rachel.

"Yep." He didn't even try to stop his grin before hurrying to catch up with the others.

"So, Macie?" The red-head, who ended up immediately to Rachel's left when Brittany announced that she had to go to the restroom then proceeded to crawl under the table, smiled and nodded back at the tiny brunette. "We've heard a lot about you. Well," Rachel giggled a little, "I have, anyway. Most of Noah's conversations with Finn take place over an X-Box headset and consist of a lot of yelling and violence. But either way, it's great to finally meet you."

"You too," Macie's smile grew a little larger as she scooted a bit closer and leaned in, almost as if what she were about to divulge was some great secret. "To be honest, I've been pretty … intimidated, by you. So it means a lot that you invited me along. And that he wanted to bring me." The somewhat unconventionally pretty girl blushed, her face turning a little redder than her auburn hair.

Rachel's jaw just dropped. "Intimidated? By me?"

Macie nodded. "He's got you like, on this pedestal or something." Now it was Rachel's turn to blush, and she started to fidget, really wishing that Sam wasn't so close on her other side so she could move farther from Finn's girlfriend of just over a year. "I mean," Macie interjected quickly, probably noticing Rachel's discomfort, "I know you guys used to date, but that's not what I'm talking about. I was talking about both of you, really." She nodded across the table at Puck, who was listening to something Mercedes was saying but keeping his eyes on his girlfriend. "It's almost like he idolizes you two." Rachel was still blushing, but it was no longer out of discomfort, and she just smiled. "And, yeah, I want Puck to like me too, but I was really hoping, well, I think it would be really great if you and I could be friends."

Rachel reached across the bench to place one hand over Macie's, which she had just noticed were busy wringing in her lap. "I think that would be wonderful."

When Brittany returned from the restroom, she didn't crawl back to Rachel's side. Instead, she insisted that the song playing was her 'absolute favorite' and that they all had to dance. The others looked around the dining room nervously; they had already caused a bit of a disturbance in the small restaurant, but it was nearly empty now, save for their group and two older couples a few tables away. Deciding that they had been there long enough that it would still be a good night even if they got kicked out now, most of the group agreed. Waving Macie's hand away with a smile when she reached out to her as Finn pulled his girlfriend out of the booth, Rachel stayed where she was, opting instead to watch her friends enjoy themselves.

Kurt decided that dancing was the perfect opportunity to take care of something that had been bothering him all night, so he only smiled and shook his head, pointing at Santana, when Blaine approached him with his hand outstretched. Blaine nodded in understanding before sneaking up behind the Latina, eliciting first a shriek then a laugh as she turned in his arms and began dancing with him.

"Care to dance?" Kurt asked the blonde, who was no longer in the booth, but wasn't dancing either, instead choosing to stare daggers into her drink. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him that Quinn was the only one to have not hugged Rachel or offered her some form of congratulations. Even Finn's girlfriend seemed to be bonding with her. Instead, Quinn had managed to always find a position that was both as far from Rachel and yet as close to Puck as possible, but said almost nothing to either.

"Who does she think she's kidding?" Quinn forcefully set her glass down on the back of the booth bench. "I mean, they've barely even said two words to each other all night. It's all about Rachel Berry, isn't it? Does she even care that this isn't _him_? All this Broadway stuff?"

Kurt watched his old frenemy with concerned eyes. For the most part, Quinn had grown up a lot over the past few years, but there were times, like now, when the old, scared, insecure Quinn came out swinging. "The few times she made any sign of affection toward him whatsoever, I _know_ she knew I was watching. And I'm sure he's putting on the same show for Finn. Did you see the way he was looking at her when she was talking to that girl Finn's seeing? _What_ are you doing?"

Quinn was halfway across the makeshift dance floor that her former classmates had made before she realized Kurt was dragging her by her elbow. "I don't want them to hear you. You've already made a big enough fool of yourself tonight, no need to make it worse." Quinn gasped indignantly and tried to pull away from him, but Kurt had gotten her where he wanted her and wrapped his right arm around her waist, taking her right hand in his left. Before she could get away, she was, quite unwillingly, dancing with him. "Why are you here, Quinn?" Kurt finally sighed.

"I wanted to see the – the show." She huffed, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes.

"No you didn't," Kurt answered, almost sadly. "You wanted to check up on them, to see if he's really happy with her." She looked back at him wide-eyed, unable to answer for a moment. Kurt waited.

Quinn broke her gaze with Kurt to look around the dance floor at all their old friends. They all looked so … happy; Blaine and Puck dancing with Santana and Brittany and encouraging their general silliness, Finn with his new, tall, girlfriend. Even Mercedes and Sam looked content with one another's company so many years after their relationship had crashed and burned almost as spectacularly as her own with Sam had. And Mike and Tina, well, Quinn couldn't even look at them. If there was so much happiness to go around, she refused to believe she was the only one without it; there was just no way that this Puckleberry thing was all that they wanted everyone to believe it was. That just wasn't the Puck she had known. "Well?" She finally demanded, "So what if I did. She's – she's just not right for him. I don't believe he's really happy here, and that's not fair to him. We have a child toge-,"

"Don't even finish that word," Kurt cut her off, glaring at her. "You do _not_ have a child together. You _had_ a baby together. There's a big difference." Quinn wouldn't look at him. "Did you know that he asked her to move in with him this morning? Or, rather, that he asked if he could move in with her?" Quinn's eyes grew to the size of silver dollars and she shook her head. "Quinn, do you really believe he's not happy, that is this all a show for you and Finn?" She again wouldn't meet his eyes. "Oh brother dear!" Kurt called across Mike's and Tina's heads to get Finn's attention. Finn left Macie in the care of Brittany, who had also just lost her dance partner, before weaving through the pairs to get to Kurt and Quinn.

"What's up?" Finn asked when he was at his step-brother's side. "Quinn," he nodded at her.

"What do you think about those two, anyway?" Kurt nodded toward the booth, where Puck was sliding toward the middle and dropping his arm over Rachel's shoulders.

Finn smiled a little, almost like a child watching his parents holding hands or dancing together in the kitchen, before answering. "I think they're awesome." The three watched as Rachel looked up at Puck even while the two carried on a conversation with Artie, who had stayed at the table with her while the others danced. Suddenly Rachel's laugh rang out through the restaurant, and they watched as her head fell back and Puck's face fell into the crook of her neck. They saw him kiss her there softly before lifting his head again so she could drop hers and continue gazing him, a hint of happy tears glistening in her eyes. "She never looked at me like that," Finn said with a small smile and not a hint of regret in his voice. Then he looked over to where Macie danced with Brittany. "She does." His smile grew a little wider.

"Thanks buddy." Kurt clapped his step-brother on the back and sent him on his way. "Well?" He turned back to Quinn, one eyebrow cocked.

"Finn's oblivious," she replied, her voice sounding small.

"No Quinn, Finn's happy. Just like them." He saw her tear up a little. "Do you even want him?" He didn't need to say a name for both to know he was talking about Puck. Quinn only shrugged. "That's a no," he chuckled. "Quinn," he waited for her to look up at him. "Rachel Berry is not your enemy; she's not your competitor. Her happiness doesn't preclude yours. Look, Rachel and Puck are going to move in together, starting immediately, most likely, and odds are he'll make an honest woman out of her within the year. And then, Noah and Rachel Puckerman will live happily ever after." He stopped to wipe away a single tear that had fallen to Quinn's cheek when he heard her sniffle. "But that doesn't mean you won't, too." She nodded and kissed Kurt on the cheek before letting him lead her back to the table.

"Brittany wear you out?" Rachel laughed as Puck slid in beside her. Artie had kept her company, and she enjoyed talking to him while they watched the others dance, but she had barely had her Noah at her side all night, and she missed him.

Puck sighed loudly before closing his hand around Rachel's shoulder and pulling her tighter into his side. "Geez man, girl's like the fuckin' Energizer Bunny!"

Artie smirked. "Yeah, well you outta see -,"

"Dude!" Puck interjected quickly. "You're my boy and all, but that is _not_ a mental image I want!" Rachel gasped and elbowed him in the side just hard enough to take his breath away for a second.

"What?" Artie asked, eyes wide in feigned innocence. "I was just going to say you should see her when she's drinking coffee. I remember one time back in high school, she'd had two freaking cups, and she was like, cleaning her parents' house on overdrive."

Puck watched Rachel out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes never left his face, but he knew she was listening to every word out of Artie's mouth. His girl was good like that. As Artie talked, Puck watched Rachel's face change. Her eyes crinkled a little at the corners, and she started to chew on her bottom lip. He knew what was coming, and he couldn't wait for Artie to get to the punch line, just so he could see it.

"When she finished she crashed and passed out, then when she woke up she asked me why her house smelled like a lemon factory and why Lord Tubbington was naked. Yeah, she vacuumed him. Twice."

Puck watched with satisfaction as Rachel's head fell back and her laugh filled the restaurant, not in an obnoxious way, but in a way that had everyone looking at them. When he lifted his head from her shoulder – he couldn't resist, her neck was right there and it was wide open, and why would he even try? – he saw the old guys at the one other occupied table in the place smiling at him. One nodded and the other winked, both silently congratulating him. He appreciated the gesture, but it totally wasn't necessary. He already knew what he had.

_**And there it is,  
>Baby, don't move,<br>I wanna soak this in,  
>I've got a new favorite memory of you<strong>_

_**~.~**_

_**Yeah, I'm gonna fall farther,  
>Baby, I know, wait for it<br>Wait for it,  
>Here I go...<br>You're fumbling around in the bedroom,  
>Trying to take off your shoes,<br>Hair back down, dress half off,  
>You look at me...<strong>_

"Alright guys, it's been a great night, really, but I gotta get my girl home now." Puck nodded appreciatively at Sam as the blonde followed Mike out of the booth to allow Puck to make his own way out, pulling Rachel along with an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry guys," Rachel managed to squeak out around a yawn.

"Stop it, you're allowed to be tired," Puck murmured into her ear as he helped her to her feet. "B's got rehearsal all day startin' early, and I got a mornin' class before I go fetch coffee for snotty Sony assholes all day -,"

"Noah, you know that internship is an honor and your ticket into the industry." Rachel chided. "Besides, don't even try to pretend like you don't love it." Puck ignored her and kept talking.

" – but I'll see you guys tomorrow evening at m – Blaine's place for dinner."

"Wait, Rachel, you aren't coming to dinner?" Mercedes asked quickly, obviously disappointed at the small amount of time she had gotten to spend with her friend due to having to share her with everyone else.

"What do you mean you got class, Puckerman? Couldn't keep up with Wondergirl over here and graduate on time?" Puck rolled his eyes at Santana's question, which came out at nearly the exact same time as Mercedes's. He let Rachel answer first.

"I hope so," Rachel reassured her friend, "but it's the last full day of rehearsals before the show, so I can't make any promises." Mercedes, as well as Tina and Macie and many of the others, looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

Accepting Rachel's purse from Brittany, Puck turned to answer Santana's question. "December. I lost some 'a my credits when I transferred up here from OSU in Lima. I got two last classes to finish up, and Sony lets me work my internship schedule around 'em."

"They love my Noah. He's wonderful up there and I _know_ they'll be begging him to stick around once this internship is over and he's got that diploma in his hands." Rachel yawned once again and nestled her body into Puck's side, fisting his dress shirt in one hand as she clung to him.

"Okay girlie, time to get you in bed. Bet the cab's already waitin'." Puck dragged Rachel toward the exit even as she tried to stop and say 'one last thing' to each of her friends. He had already known she was tired, but when she started getting all clingy and mushy he _knew_ it was time to get her home. She may have been a fan of certain public displays of affection – they both had an almost unnatural need to touch each other no matter where they were – but she wasn't _that_ girl unless she was either drunk or almost deliriously sleepy.

The cab ride from the restaurant to her (_**their**__, finally! Still getting' used to that shit)_ apartment at midnight on a Wednesday was only 15 minutes long, and Rachel slept for approximately 10 of them. When the cab pulled up in front of her (_their) _building, Puck paid the driver before exiting the cab, again tipping the man generously for driving carefully with his precious cargo. "C'mon Sleepin' Beauty, we're home." He couldn't help but smile when he thought that they really were home, not just her, but _them_. "I can carry you up, but'cha gotta get outta the car first."

"Silly Noah," Rachel giggled into his bicep as he reached into the car to help her out. "Not Sleeping Beauty, _Jasmine._"

"Right. Jasmine. How could I forget?" Of course he didn't forget, but she wouldn't be Rachel if she didn't find some way to remind him that, in two days, she would be originating the role in the Broadway version of 'Aladdin.'

Puck huffed as he watched Rachel exit the elevator, a little unsteady on her feet. "Baby, I told ya I'd carry you up. You weigh, like, 10 pounds. Besides," he smirked, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and drop his chin on her shoulder as she fumbled with the key in the lock, "I coulda carried you over the threshold."

"Noah," she dropped her head back against his shoulder, "we didn't just get married."

"Maybe," he shrugged, "but this is a big deal, right?"

"Of course it is Noah, it's a _huge_ deal." She turned within his arms so that she was facing him and brushed her nose against his. "It's a huge, wonderful, amazing deal." She squeezed his biceps in her hands and pressed her lips against his in a slow kiss. "Now let's go in _our_ apartment, get changed in _our_ bedroom, and climb into _our_ bed. The cool night air and the walk in woke me up a little, but it won't last long."

Puck nearly growled at what he _hoped_ she was implying, reaching around her to push the door open and barely taking the time to yank the key out of the handle as he scooted her into the apartment. He followed her closely into the bedroom, his eyes trained on her hands as her arms twisted behind her, trying to reach the zipper of her dress. He watched her for nearly a minute before approaching her, both amused at her attempt to do something that just was not going to happen and entranced at how she managed to look beautiful and graceful while doing it.

"Want some help, babe?" He saw her jump a little when his breath washed over her nearly bare shoulder. He smirked; she hadn't realized how close he was.

"Mmhmm," she purred, "thank you." Rachel pulled her hair over her right shoulder and tilted her head down and to that side.

Puck knew that she was trying to give him access to the zipper, but he didn't think she'd mind if he took advantage of the access she also gave him to her body. Really, if she expected him _not_ to attach his lips to her neck, starting just below her ear and kissing and nipping his way down to her shoulder, she needed sleep even more badly than he had thought. He smiled against her skin when her shoulders drooped and her head lolled forward, the tension of her long day almost literally melting away. Kissing her shoulder once more for good measure, he took a step away from her and smoothly slid down the zipper holding the two panels of red satin together before pushing the straps off her shoulders. He rested one hand on her hip and reached the other around her to pull her hair back so that it cascaded down her now nearly bare back. He kissed her one last time, softly on the top of her head, before turning and walking to the dresser.

When Puck turned back to her after discarding his dress clothes and pulling on the pajama pants that he had been keeping in Rachel's underwear drawer since about his second week in New York, it was like déjà vu. A pool of red satin gathered around her waist, leaving her upper body once again exposed except for that fuckin' awesome red bra, as Rachel hopped on one foot and tried desperately to rid the other foot of its shoe. He laughed a little, quietly and under his breath, before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "C'mere Rach." She looked over her shoulder at him sheepishly before walking to join him on the bed. "Lemme get 'em."

Rachel sat gingerly on Puck's thigh and let him lean over her to open the clasp on each shoe before she toed them off, letting them land askew on the floor. "Noah," she began when he sat back up and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, "thank you." He looked at her curiously, but she kept going. "I don't even really know what else to say, so just … thank you. Today was incredible. Perfect, really."

"Even the part where you have to live with a boy?" His girl didn't get to be named after 'Friends' without having seen every episode, several times. A few hours after he asked her if he could move in he called to (mostly) jokingly ask her if she'd freaked out yet to Mercedes that she 'has to live with a boy.' (So maybe he'd also seen some of the episodes – more times than he would care to admit.) Rachel dropped her head to Puck's shoulder as he tightened his grip on her and shook her playfully from side to side.

"Especially that part." She turned her head on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I am a little worried though," she sighed. She felt Puck stiffen. "Blaine's not upset with you, is he? I mean you guys have been roommates for over three years now, and you were right in the middle of a lease, and …"

Puck untangled himself from Rachel and fell back onto the bed so that he was laying on his back and looking up at her, still on his lap with her dress half on. His hands ran lightly up and down her stomach and her back. "You kiddin' me babe? I think Kurt and Mercedes are over there right now turnin' my room into a sewin' room or some shit."

She giggled. "You know Kurt _designs_ the clothes, right? He doesn't actually make them."

"Whatever," he shrugged. His face turned serious again and he pulled Rachel down so that she was sprawled across his chest, his hands working across her hips to help her wiggle the rest of the way out of her dress. As the dress slid to the floor in a puddle of satin, Puck's hands landed at her waist, long fingers almost spanning the expanse of her back and pulling her body down into his. "Moral of the story is, Kurt's movin' in there, I'm movin' in here, and everybody's happy." He lifted his head to kiss her quickly. "'Specially me."

And of all the looks Rachel had, the one she gave him next was Puck's favorite.

_**And there it is,  
>Baby, don't move,<br>I wanna soak this in,  
>I've got a new favorite memory of you.<strong>_

_**Here we go again,  
>I've got a new favorite memory of you.<strong>_


	12. Breakeven

**Breakeven – The Script**

"Alright Puck, you're up." Mr. Schuester nodded at his student and stepped to the side to take his usual seat at the side of the room, facing the students on the risers as well as the open area where Puck would be performing his number for the week.

When Schue had initially given the assignment over a week prior, Puck was a little, well, concerned. Most of the group was excited that, for the first time ever, their teacher actually told them to sing something contemporary, even if he did request that they stay out of the traditional 'pop' category as much as possible. But for Puck, the teacher's obsession with old-school rock and even sometimes 80s pop was a blessing. He could rock some Queen and Bon Jovi like nobody's business. There was something about the new stuff that he just didn't connect with in quite the same way. So, when he was stalking through his house a week later in possibly the worst mood ever (the same mood he'd been in since _that_ day, coincidentally) and heard an unfamiliar song drifting from behind his sister's closed bedroom door that kind of grabbed him and wouldn't let go, he was at least a little bit relieved that finally something seemed to be going his way. He stormed into her room and snatched her iPod from its dock, telling her he was taking it to "check up on what the fuck she was listening to." Sarah didn't say anything when not even 20 minutes later, she heard the unmistakable sound of her brother's guitar plucking out the chorus of the same song. And she continued to keep to herself even later when she heard him working out other parts of the song on his electric keyboard (although, she did make a note to get him a set of those nice headphones she kept seeing all those athletes and musicians wearing for his birthday).

Puck didn't say anything as he made his way to the piano, nodding first to Mr. Schue to let him know that he was ready and then to Brad to let him know that his assistance wouldn't be needed for this one. He saw the looks that passed between some of his classmates when he chose that instrument over the guitar, but he ignored them. These people, with one exception, really didn't know half as much about him as they thought they did. So he didn't usually choose to play the piano, didn't mean he couldn't. And this time it just felt right, somehow – different from all the others. He began without any fanfare, any introduction of any kind. Sometimes things just didn't need to be said.

_**I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing  
>Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in<br>'Cause I got time while she got freedom  
>'Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven<br>Her best days will be some of my worst  
>She finally met a man that's gonna put her first<br>While I'm wide awake she's no trouble sleeping  
>'Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven, even, no<strong>_

He knew that he shouldn't have looked up, that it would have been better to keep his eyes on the keys of the piano. He just couldn't help himself. There was something … foreign … about the thought of singing without having her eyes to focus on. Sure he had done it plenty of times before, but not once since they had become _them_. But then, even once his own eyes found her, he still didn't have her eyes to look at. Her head was down, those eyes staring at her hands twisting in her lap. Then when she did look up, she broke his heart a little more than it already was. Her eyes flashed at him for only a second, so quickly that he couldn't tell what he saw in them, before she turned to smile softly at something Tina was saying.

And then his world fucking imploded, because Finn leaned forward from his seat directly behind Rachel. His hands were on her shoulders and his mouth was next to her ear, and he was smiling as he whispered something to her. Before he could register it all, Puck found himself staring not into a pair of velvety chocolate eyes but a pair of much lighter, clearer ones. (_And since when does he notice the color of Hudson's eyes? Fuck.) _Fucker had some serious balls too, practically staring him down, and smiling right at him as he did it, while he helped Puck's (very recent) ex-girlfriend move on.

Puck had been hurt, but not really all that surprised, when he found Finn at Rachel's side only days after their blow-up. The two had become good friends almost immediately after breaking up (he didn't understand it, but it worked) and stayed that way, even through Puck and Rachel's relationship. And Puck had never, not once, suspected her of cheating. But he should have known that if something went wrong between him and Rachel (translation: if he screwed things up), Finn would be the one helping her pick up the pieces. If he was being honest, he wasn't even that pissed about it. He knew how much he had fucked up that night, how selfish he had been, putting his own stupid shit (or his inability to listen, depending on how you looked at it) in front of doing what she wanted for just one night. And Finn wasn't the brightest guy – dude could legit be an idiot sometimes – but he wasn't selfish when it came to Rachel. Apparently at least one of them had learned that lesson. And now, even though they were only friends (_were_ they stillonly friends?), he had no problem putting Rachel first. So yeah, it hurt like hell to watch her smile warmly at something Finn was saying when she wouldn't even look at Puck, but he wasn't angry. Not as long as she could be happy._****_

_**What am I suppose to do  
>When the best part of me was always you and<br>What am I suppose to say  
>When I'm all choked up and you're okay<br>I'm falling to pieces, yeah  
>I'm falling to pieces<br>They say bad things happen for a reason  
>But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding<br>'Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving  
>And when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven, even, no<strong>_

_Puck and Rachel hung back while the rest of the group filed out of the choir room, as usual. They didn't see the point in being in a hurry to get out of the classroom just to wait in the parking lot. Instead they took their time, walking almost lazily toward their lockers as Rachel rattled on about whatever stuck out in her mind about the day, usually something glee related. That day was no exception, with her praising Mr. Schue for finally 'breaking out of his comfort zone' and encouraging them to explore more modern options. She understood when Puck told her that he actually kind of liked singing the old stuff, but assured him that he would be amazing at whatever song he found to fit this assignment as well. In fact, she went so far as to plant her feet right there in the middle of the hall, causing him to jerk to a stop when he realized that his hand, the one currently entwined with Rachel's, wasn't moving with the rest of him. "Noah, your classic rock is kind of like my Broadway classics. We both cling to them because we know we can. But you can do so much more. I know it." He wanted to roll his eyes at her for looking so deeply into something he hadn't even really said, but she was staring up at him with her eyes all soft and earnest (and she was right, after all), and instead of making fun of her all he could do was kiss her and say 'thank you.' _

_She kept talking after that, but he kind of stopped listening. It wasn't that he didn't care, but when she got started on music, she could go for a _long_ time, and most of the time it was stuff he had heard before. And okay, that meant he maybe didn't exactly catch it when she switched gears and started talking about having dinner with her dads that night. So when she closed her locker after pulling out all the things she needed for ballet and looked up at him with that smile he loved and asked if everything sounded 'acceptable,' he had no choice but to smile back and agree. He figured he'd iron out the details of what he'd just agreed to later._

_He'd just gotten to his own locker when Artie and Mike showed up at his side, going on and on about the 'epic' X-Box marathon they were having that night at Finn's house and asking if there was any way he could provide 'refreshments' on such short notice. He agreed without hesitation (couldn't let his boys down!) and got started making the necessary calls. _

_And yeah, the night was pretty epic, for him at least, because being with Rachel had taught him self-control in more areas than one, and since he was the only one of the guys _not_ trashed, he was kicking ass like it was his fuckin'_ job. _But then Kurt came in screeching, and at first he laughed because he wondered what the hell Finn or Blaine did wrong this time, but the laughter died on his lips as soon as he realized it was his name that Kurt kept yelling and it was his face that bony little finger was pointing in. He stuck around long enough to hear the words 'Rachel,' 'dinner,' and 'damage control,' then he was out the door without so much as a word to the others._

_**H**__**What am I gonna do  
>When the best part of me was always you<br>And what am I suppose to say  
>When I'm all choked up and you're okay<br>I'm falling to pieces, yeah  
>I'm falling to pieces, yeah<br>I'm falling to pieces  
>(One's still in love while the other one's leaving)<br>I'm falling to pieces  
>('Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven)<strong>_

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but even after seeing the way Finn hovered over her, Puck couldn't keep his eyes from finding Rachel as he sang. He _needed_ to see her. It was all for her, after all. At least Finn had stopped touching her, even if he was still leaning forward, forearms on his knees and his mouth still only inches from her ear. Puck didn't miss the way her eyes darted up to him and a small smile graced her lips every time Finn said something. He could only imagine what exactly it was that Finn was saying. Was he telling her how lucky she was to be rid of him? Pointing out how ridiculous he was making himself look by doing this? Or maybe he was just making promises of what would happen later, once they got away from everyone else, since Puck wasn't in the way anymore.

Finally, Finn must have gone a little too far, because Kurt smacked at him and he rolled his eyes and sat back in his own chair. Tina pulled Rachel close and stroked her hair softly, shooting Finn a dirty look, when the Asian girl saw her friend's face fall. Puck didn't want to be happy about that look on Rachel's face – really – but it was nice to at least see that the Golden Boy messed up sometimes too. And he couldn't help but think that she never wore that look because of him. Eye rolling, foot stomping, teeth grinding, all those angry gestures, sure, they were regular occurrences. What could he say; he had a way of pissing her off. He also had ways (really fuckin' awesome ways, thank you very much) of soothing the anger and making her happy again. But that sad, pouty shit – even when she was breaking up with him and kicking him out of her house, he never caused _that_ face. Think about _that_ one for a while, Hudson.

He knew that the others weren't blind or stupid, they had picked up on the fact that both he and Rachel had been walking around alone (well, Rachel wasn't alone, but Tina and Kurt and Blaine and Finn weren't _him_, and that was alone enough, as far as he was concerned) for almost two weeks now. And fuck all if he didn't know they were giving him matching looks of pity as he poured out his heart over the piano. But, because he couldn't stop watching her, he also saw the caring looks they were all sending her way, and he kind of wondered how in the hell that happened. Sure, he was concerned about her; he figured he kind of always would be; that shit was unavoidable. But this was Rachel. She wasn't exactly Miss Popularity, even in glee, and when Quinn (who had been spending a lot of time hanging around Hudson's locker lately, _again_) looked first at her with sad eyes and then at him with scorching ones, he almost stopped playing just to ask what the fuck her problem was. After all, he was the heartbroken one here. He was the one left all alone while Rachel picked right back up with Finn and got to walk the halls with his heart in one hand and Finn's in the other._****_

_**You got his heart and my heart and none of the pain  
>You took your suitcase, I took the blame<br>Now I'm tryna make sense of what little remains, oh  
>'Cause you left me with no love and no love to my name<br>I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing  
>Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in<br>'Cause I got time while she got freedom  
>'Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break<br>No it don't break, no it don't breakeven, no**_

_When Puck pulled up to Rachel's house, he was thankful to see that her dad's car was missing, because on a Friday night that usually meant both men were out somewhere together. He hadn't caught all of what Kurt was trying to say, but he got enough of it to know that Rachel was thoroughly pissed, and that was something he definitely didn't want to handle with her fathers hanging out in the background. He let himself in with the key he kept begging Rachel to find a better hiding place for (regardless of what her 5'2" self thought, the top of the door jamb was not 'well-hidden') and was relieved that he at least didn't hear crying right off the bat._

"_Baby? Rach?" He called out to her as he made his way cautiously through the foyer. "Baby, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so, so sorry." Ok, so he didn't know what he was apologizing for. She didn't need to know that. Kurt may be a drama queen, but he also loved calling Rachel out on all her drama queen moments, so he wouldn't have burst into the den demanding that Puck fix it unless he had actually done something that needed fixing. If it was bad enough for Kurt to actually sympathize with her and not just tell her how melodramatic she was being ('Hi kettle, this is pot, you're black'), he knew he would mean the apology as soon as he figured out what it was for._

_He heard her before he saw her. First it was her angry footsteps on the stairs (she was still wearing shoes – her bare feet made like, no sound at all – and that probably wasn't a good sign either), then it was her even angrier voice. "I CANNOT believe you, Noah Puckerman. I ask one thing of you, ONE THING!" _

_It probably wasn't a good time to point out that she had asked much more than one thing of him over the months. _

"_And, you can't even do that. You know, the worst part is, you couldn't even be a man and just tell me to my face!" _

_Wait, did she really say he wasn't a _man_? He was more than tempted to grab her and carry her back up the stairs to show her just how much of a man he was. _

"_Instead-," _

_Oh, was she still talking? Shit, cause he _really _wanted to go prove her wrong about that whole not being a man thing. _

" – _I'm sitting here worrying myself sick about what could have happened to you, then I talk to Kurt and find out that what HAPPENED -,"_

_He flinched; he really didn't like the way she stressed that word. _

" – _was a video game with his idiot step-brother and the rest of your idiot friends!"_

"_Rach …" he started, moving slowly toward where she now stood on the bottom step. He shoved his hands into his pockets because it was the only way to keep from reaching out for her, and he knew that wasn't a good idea. He still wasn't 100% sure what he did wrong, but based on what he'd just heard, it wasn't good, and he was already starting to feel like an asshole._

"_This night was important, SO important," she continued, "to my dad. Partner, Noah. They made him a _partner_. That's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and he wanted you there! Him, not me! I mean, I always want you there, but this was Daddy's night, and he specifically told me to invite you, to make sure you were available before we made plans." _

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. _

"_Do you know what that means?" He felt like he was about six inches tall, her angry words and her pained eyes cutting him down more than he thought possible. "It means that he thinks of you as _family, _Noah. My father, who hasn't spoken to his own family in almost 20 years, considers you to be a part of his family. And you," he watched her chest heave with a deep, ragged breath, and for once he didn't enjoy it, "you consider a video game to be more important than that." _

_She had been yelling, screaming really, the whole time, but the last words came out almost as a whisper, and that probably stung more than all the yelling. He wanted to kick his own ass right now, and he had no idea how to go about fixing what he had so royally fucked up."Baby, I …" he took another step closer so that they were eye-to-eye from where she stood on the bottom step, but he still didn't take his hands out of his pockets, "I don't know what to say."_

"_Yeah," she bit out sarcastically, "well there's a shock."_

_He didn't know why those words felt like such a slap in the face. It really wasn't that what she said was so offensive; she had a point. But there was something about the _way_ she said it, with all that bitterness dripping off the words, bitterness she had never directed at him before. He definitely didn't think about his next words before they were out of his mouth. "Oh yeah? Well, maybe if you talked a little less, I'd get some more practice and be better at this shit." His brain totally registered the look of shock and pain (anger too, but mostly pain) on her face, but his mouth didn't get the message quickly enough. "That's why I wasn't here, ya know. 'Cause you talk so much I have to tune you out just to keep my ears from bleeding sometimes. I didn't even know this fuckin' thing was happening." As soon as he said it, he took a step back. He didn't know what he expected her to do, but he knew if someone said that to him (or something the equivalent of that, 'cause 'talking too much' wasn't really an insult that got thrown his way), he'd probably come out swinging. _

_For her part, Rachel actually handled it much better than he probably would have. Instead of kicking him in the balls or snatching the nearest picture off the wall and hurling it at his head, she only let her jaw go slack and took a step backward up the stairs. _

"_Fuck baby, I'm … shit, I'm so sorry. You know I didn't mean that. I love when you ramble, it's so _you_. It's my fault I wasn't listening, not yours. I'm sorry Rach." He reached a hand toward her for the first time since he'd arrived, but she only took another step backward, working her way back up the stairs._

"_I think you should leave now." Her voice was quiet, eerily calm._

"_Baby …" he dropped the hand that had been reaching for her to rest on the banister and stepped onto the step she had just vacated._

"_It's time for you to go Puck." _

_He did the only thing he could do; he watched her retreat all the way up the stairs with her head down and her eyes studying her feet, then he honored her request, locking the door behind him. He'd never even heard her say that word before. He was always 'Noah,' to her, except for the one or two times (never since they'd been dating) when she'd been so angry she'd called him 'Puckerman,' but that was the first time she'd ever, _ever_, called him _Puck_, and that one word hurt him more than all other angry words and bitterness that had preceded it. _

_He had no idea that one word, his own name for God's sake, could send his whole world falling to pieces around him. One word could keep him awake at night praying to a God that probably wasn't even listening, 'cause let's face it, the guy was probably thinkin' he deserved it after all this time. One word would leave him broken, frozen and unable to do anything except watch as she continued to show up to school, still angry at first, then a little sad, then content to let someone else take away the pain he caused. One word would take away everything that was good about him._

_**What am I gonna do  
>When the best part of me was always you<br>And what am I supposed to say  
>When I'm all choked up and you're okay<br>I'm falling to pieces, yeah  
>I'm falling to pieces, yeah<br>I'm falling to pieces  
>(One's still in love while the other one's leaving)<br>I'm falling to pieces  
>('Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven)<strong>_

The song ended just minutes before the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Puck's classmates didn't even stick around to hear the end of whatever generic praise Mr. Schuester was giving him, filing quickly out of the room as the bell sounded. In no hurry to go fight the cluster fuck that was a high school parking lot at 3:15, as usual, Puck took his time at the piano, dropping his head and playing a few more bars before standing to gather his things. Because he had been purposely avoiding her eyes since the last word escaped his lips, unwilling to look at her without the protection the song somehow seemed to provide, Puck faltered a little when he turned toward the chairs and saw Rachel still sitting there. He said nothing, reaching to the side to rest his hand on the piano (maybe steadying himself a little, not that he would admit that), when she rose from her chair and moved toward him.

"Look, um, I'm sorry if that was like, crossing a line or somethin'." He hadn't intended for the song to upset her, and he certainly didn't want to piss her off even more than he had already managed to do. But no matter how much it may have bothered her, it had to be done. He had to get those words out. "I mean, it's just that, well, ya know how music …"

"Noah Puckerman, how _dare_ you!" For someone so short, she sure could cross a room fast. Before Puck could really register what was going on, Rachel was directly in front of him, her little index finger jabbing in his face and her hot, angry breath washing over his neck and collarbone in short bursts with every word. "I know things have been … _strained …_ between us, but you have no right … NO. RIGHT." Now her finger was actually poking his chest with each word, "To sing those words in front of all of our friends. I mean," now she was pacing, but never straying more than a couple feet from him as he stood rooted to the floor beside the piano, watching her with wide eyes and a tight frown, "to sit up here and actually say that you're the only one hurting and I'm _okay._ Really! Do you really believe that?" She finally stopped pacing, landing just in front of him with her arms hanging at her sides and her hands clenching and unclenching the material of her skirt.

"Rachel …" He said her name much more softly, more _gently_, than he had intended; it just seemed that he couldn't really say it any other way. It didn't seem to matter though, because she started up again before he had a chance to say anything else.

"You haven't spoken to me in over a week, Noah. You barely look at me. You changed seats in English class. How, in the _hell_," Puck's eyes got a little wide; months together and the sound of a curse word leaving her mouth still took him by shock, "do you expect me to be ok?"

Finally Puck couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to confront him, fine, but she was going to listen to his side too. "Seemed like Finn was taking care of you just fine!" Yeah, ok, so he knew that was a low blow. But he had been dancing around her this whole time, trying to be like, conscious of her feelings or some shit, and here she is coming at him, guns blazing.

Rachel tried to keep her mouth shut, she tried to be patient and hear him out. Really. But as soon Finn's name left his lips, she couldn't help herself. "Finn is my FRIEND, Noah. You know this!"

Fine, she wanted to talk about what he _knew?_ He'd lay it all out on the table. "I mean, here I am pouring out my heart, laying it all on the line to show you that I _know_ I fucked up, I _know_ I'm the one who was wrong and -,"

She continued to talk over him, her frustration growing . "And yes, he's been there for me the past week. That's what friends do! That's what Kurt has done. It's what Tina has done. All of them, they've listened to me when you were refusing to so much as look in my direction!"

" – I let things go way too far that night, but we haven't even been broken up two damn weeks and you've obviously moved on."

She paused for a breath, just long enough catch the tail end of what he said. "Wait, what?"

Rachel stared at Puck with her jaw slack and her eyes wide, suddenly looking much less angry and more like she was about to cry at any second. "_What,_ what?" He hated that look. But more than that he hated that she had that look and he couldn't reach out and pull her to him and hold her until it went away. That's not what ex-boyfriends do.

"What did you just say?" Rachel was still staring at him, her hands wringing franticly in front of her. "And not the whole ridiculous rant, just the last part." She really was becoming a much better actress; her voice didn't crack once. But no matter how good an actress she was, Puck would always be able to see through the mask. Her voice was forceful and she had even managed to mostly still her hands, but her eyes betrayed her, at least to him. She was much more upset about this than she should be. After all, she was the one who broke up with him, and she hadn't even acknowledged it so far.

Finally uprooting himself from his position beside the piano, Puck turned his back to her and walked toward the chairs, presumably to pick up his backpack and leave. "I said, it's shitty that you already ran back to Hudson when you only broke up with me a week and a half ago."

Rachel could do nothing but watch his back as Puck bent to pick up his backpack and hitch it over one shoulder. She was just so confused. "Noah, I … We had a fight." Ok, so not the best answer. But it was the only thing she could get out at the moment. She watched as his back straightened and his head dropped forward, a harsh chuckle slipping out of his throat.

"Yeah. I was there." He turned to face her, his eyes soft but his jaw clenched tightly. "See ya Berry, just … be happy."

Rachel felt helpless for a moment as she watched him walk toward the door. It was if she had forgotten that she could actually move until she saw him reaching for the handle. Suddenly desperate to stop him, she flew across the room and dropped a warm hand on his right forearm. "No, Noah. We had a fight. _Just_ a fight." She stared up into his face, watching as his other features softened to match his eyes. She took a chance and stepped closer to him, lifting her free hand to rest on his chest over his heart. "Have you ever had a fight with a girlfriend before, Noah?"

Puck rolled his eyes at her, but internally, his mind was racing. "What d'you think, Rachel?" He hoped the question would help him feel her out. He needed to know where her head was but he was afraid he would spook her if he came right out and asked.

"I think," she spoke quietly and took yet another step toward him, looking up into his face and leaving maybe half a foot between them, "that you've only actually had one girlfriend before me, if you don't count whatever was going on during Quinn's pregnancy." Her left hand slid down his right arm until her fingers locked with his and her right hand traveled up to rest on the side of his neck, her thumb tracing the outline of his jaw. "And honestly, I don't think you and Lauren would have really bothered with fighting; your relationship was much too … relaxed_._"

Puck didn't really think about it, his body seeming to move without his consent. He hitched his backpack more securely onto his shoulder with the hand that wasn't already holding Rachel's then moved it to her hip. God it felt good to touch her again.

"So," she continued, Puck watching her lips move as she spoke, "that makes me think that you misinterpreted what happened at my house week before last." He slipped his hand from her hip around to the small of her back, pulling her a little closer.

"So when you said I should leave, you didn't mean it?"

"Oh," she chuckled a little, "I meant it. I was very angry that you thought a video game was an acceptable reason to blow off plans with my fathers and me. And I was hurt by what you said about my talking," Puck flinched a little before dropping his head to drop a light kiss, just a brush of his lips, really, on her forehead. "I _needed_ you out of my house so I could cool off. I needed a break."

Puck nodded; he definitely understood that. He had eaten enough boxed macaroni and cheese dinners because his mom refused to cook for him to learn that sometimes the best way to win a fight was to just stop fighting.

"But that was just for the night. I had no intentions of it being a break _up_. I just needed to breathe a little. So I did." He smiled at the way her shoulders lifted momentarily into a little shrug, as if she were talking about something as casual as the weather, "And I talked to Kurt and Tina, then to my dads, who weren't nearly as bothered about being stood up as I thought they would be, and even to Finn, who _completely_" she squeezed his hand for emphasis, "took your side this whole time and said I was being ridiculous. Twenty-four hours later, I was over being angry with you and just wanted my Noah back."

Rachel took a tiny step forward, closing what little distance remained between them, and rested her chin on his chest to gaze up at him. He took his hand from her back, lifting it to smooth her hair back over her head and run down over its length, landing again where it had started. "So … we're good then?" Any other time he would be pissed that his voice sounded all hopeful and shit, but this time, he really meant it and he couldn't find it in himself to care how he sounded. He just wanted her to know how much he needed her – needed for whatever this had been to be over.

"Well," she slipped her hand out of his and lifted it to wrap both arms around his neck, his now free hand immediately joining his other on her back, "I believe that we need to have a serious discussion about what exactly constitutes a break-up, but -,"

"Fuck that. No breakin' up." He tightened his arms around her so that each hand ended up on the opposite hip when he saw the way her face lit up. "End of discussion."

Rachel couldn't help but giggle. "Well, in that case, we're good." She lifted onto her toes and kissed him eagerly, her lips parting to grant him entrance before his tongue actually met them. She sighed when she heard, and felt, him moan softly into her mouth when she tightened her hand around the back of his neck and pressed her tongue against his.

"At's my girl," he whispered into her hair when she finally dropped back onto her heels and broke the kiss, nuzzling her face into his collarbone just below his chin.

_**Oh, it don't breakeven, no  
>Oh, it don't breakeven, no<br>Oh, it don't breakeven, no**_

So yeah, when a heart breaks, the break is usually anything but even. One side usually ends up much more broken than the other. But if you're really lucky, if you're one of the special few, it doesn't have to break at all.


	13. One and Only

**One and Only - Adele**

"'Sup, Irish?"

"Is that really the most original nickname you can come up with, Puck?" Rory tilted his head and regarded his friend mock-seriously.

"Nope," Puck drained the cup of punch that Rachel had abandoned when she went to the restroom. He idly wondered what on earth she could be doing in there for the past two and a half songs, but whatever. She made it perfectly clear that this 'Prom on a Budget: Take II' thing was a friends-only situation. (_'We're graduating soon Noah. Sam, Mercedes, and I had a lovely time last year, and I don't see the point in wasting much-needed funds on things like an expensive dress and dinner and a limo when they aren't necessary to have fun. I insist that you be our fourth; you need to be watching your budget too, you know. Besides, you'll be a much better non-date than Jesse, I know it.'_)

"But it's the least offensive." He smirked when he looked back up the exchange student.

"Whatever," Rory rolled his eyes. He knew that though Puck insisted that he was 'badass,' he was not a bad guy. "Santana sent me over here to tell you, quote, 'Fish Lips' song is half over and I'm up next. You've got until about the second line to get Berry on the dance floor before I come relieve you of your balls and do it myself,' end quote."

Puck grinned. It was hard not to, hearing Satan's words comin' out in that funny little accent. He gave the smaller boy a mock-salute when he stood from his chair, "Aye aye, captain." He couldn't help but notice that Rory looked a little relieved as he nodded and hurried away to find Brittany. Puck wasn't sure if the boy was scared of him or Santana, but he figured they were both worthy of the reaction.

He had no problem asking Rachel to dance (although he didn't know what the fuck Satan's problem was, straight-up demanding it like that), but he couldn't seem to find her. He heard Evans's song draw to a close just as he spotted her on the other side of the gym, talking to Mercedes and Kurt and some girl he kind of recognized from the biology class he and Rachel shared.

_**You've been on my mind  
>I grow fonder every day,<br>Lose myself in time  
>Just thinking of your face<br>God only knows  
>Why it's taken me so long<br>To let my doubts go  
>You're the only one that I want<strong>_

Rachel felt only a little badly about leaving Noah for so long. They had actually danced quite a few songs together, usually as part of a larger glee-group, when they first arrived, but both claimed that they didn't feel like dancing much once Rachel came back from performing her solo number. Hers was the first slow song of the night, and the mood between the two had shifted noticeably after that. Besides, when she left – she needed a break from him because when he was anywhere near her, when he was anywhere within her line of sight, really, her brain didn't work properly – Rory was singing a Buddy Holly song that would have been quite difficult to dance to anyway, and when she came out of the ladies' room Finn was singing and she wasn't about to go ask Noah to dance to Finn's song. Yeah – just, no. She honestly had started trying to slip away from Kurt when Finn ended his song, but then Mercedes walked up with that nice girl Hannah from biology and Rachel saw Sam taking the stage, and she knew Noah wouldn't want to dance to Justin Bieber anyway, so she decided to hang out just a little while longer.

"I got about three seconds to get you on that dance floor before Santana comes and chops off my manhood." Rachel stiffened a little when she first felt the pair of hands on her hips, but she'd recognize those hands, and that smell, and that _voice_ anywhere.

"Is that so?" She tapped her chin 'thoughtfully' with her forefinger and turned her gaze toward the ceiling, playfully refusing to turn and actually acknowledge him.

"Yeah," she shivered as he growled into her ear. "And I _like_ my manhood, so let's go.

Rachel shrieked a little when she felt him pulling her almost roughly from her friends, but she didn't protest, quickly passing off her purse to a laughing Mercedes. It wasn't until they were on the floor, Noah's arms wrapped comfortably around her waist and hers draped easily over his shoulders, that she realized what song they were dancing to. She tried to focus on the way Santana's voice sounded singing the words, raspy and deep and really quite good, and not on the words themselves. It's not as if she needed to listen to them anyway; she was more than familiar with the lyrics. And the fact that Santana and Brittany had walked in on her playing the song loudly on her iPod as she flipped through a stack of photos of her and Noah, that was just coincidence. Right? She buried her face in his shoulder, hoping that he wouldn't see what was racing through her mind, what she knew had to be written all over her face.

_**I don't know why I'm scared, I've been here before  
>Every feeling, every word, I've imagined it all,<br>You never know if you never try  
>To forget your past and simply be mine<br>I dare you to let me be your, your one and only  
>Promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms<br>So come on and give me the chance  
>To prove that I'm the one who can<br>Walk that mile until the end starts**_

"You look really beautiful, ya know." Rachel froze when she felt Noah's lips brushing across her ear and heard his words, soft and almost soothing. "I guess pink really is your color." He chuckled, and she relaxed when she felt his arms tighten around her waist and his cheek fall against the side of her head.

"Thank you." She practically whispered the words into the exposed skin just above his collar, but when his right hand curled around her hip and squeezed briefly, she knew he had heard her.

Rachel was angry with herself, really, more than anything. She was acting like a silly little girl, not the grown, mature woman she was supposed to be in only a few short months. She hadn't been like this since the beginning of her infatuation with Finn. Really, if she was being truly honest with herself, she wasn't even this bad then, because at least then she was honest and basically straightforward about what she wanted, what she felt. But this thing, whatever it was, with Noah, had left her feeling hesitant, and unsure, and just plain terrified.

The really frustrating thing was, she didn't know what she was terrified of. Even now, with his arms around her and her head on his shoulder, she was a little surprised that he couldn't feel her trembling. There was no reason to be scared, she tried to tell herself, this was no big deal. It was just her and Noah, sharing a dance at prom as friends. Except that it wasn't. Since the moment she realized that the prospect of going to New York without Finn no longer broke her heart, all she could really think of was what it would be like to have Noah hold her and how that conversation might go when she told him about how she felt – about how she could be good enough for him and really make him happy if only he would give her the chance to prove that she could be _that girl._

Only now that it was happening for real, she couldn't get a grip, because while she was physically in his arms, she wasn't really _in his arms_. They were just there, just dancing because he was her friend and she wanted an even number of boys and girls for their little prom group. He was dancing with her; he wasn't holding her. And the longer she stood there, swaying and shuffling with him with her arms thrown over his shoulders (and when, exactly, did her hand sneak up into his hair?) and his arms secure and comforting around her waist, the harder she had to work to keep it together. But she _had_ to keep it together, because if she didn't he would figure out that something was wrong and he would question her about it and she would either have to come clean or lie to him, neither of which was a prospect she looked forward to.

Keeping it together got just a little more difficult when Puck turned them on the floor, moving them so that she was now facing Santana on the stage. Rachel shifted her head on his shoulder, repositioning it so that she could look at the girl singing, who was staring directly back at her as the words slipped over her lips.

_**Have I been on your mind  
>You hang on every word I say<br>Lose yourself in time  
>At the mention of my name,<br>Will I ever know  
>How it feels to hold you close?<br>And have you tell me  
>'Whichever road I choose you'll go'<strong>_

Damn Santana. Damn her and her pushiness and her song lyrics that wouldn't let Rachel just _be_ and made her think. And really, it was quite unnerving the way she was hearing Santana's voice outside of her, singing _that_ song, and inside her head at the same time.

"_He's watchin' you again."_

"_Would you stop that!" Rachel spat over her shoulder, refusing to give Santana the satisfaction of turning to face her. She and Finn had been broken up for a grand total of, oh, about 20 hours, and Santana had spent roughly 10 of them (seriously, every waking second when they were in each other's presence, which Santana had ensured was more than usual for a weekday) telling her how Noah was watching her, or talking about her, or just generally thinking about her – although how Santana would know that, she really had no clue. _

_Santana shrugged, even though she knew Rachel was too stubborn to turn around and therefore wouldn't see her. "Just sayin', B."_

"_Don't worry," Rachel did turn to her other side when she heard Brittany's voice, "you look way better than the last time you and Finn broke up. You know, not all red and puffy and stuff." Rachel heard Santana's snicker, but she gave the girl credit for at least trying to cover it up. That was progress._

If that one day had been the only thing, Rachel might not be in this predicament. Sure, she would still be almost painfully in-like (she _refused_ to use that other 'l' word, not yet, anyway) with her best (straight) guy friend, but she wouldn't be over analyzing the way his fingers brushed across the skin of her hip over the fabric of her dress or the way his breath fanned out across her cheek and neck every time he exhaled deeply.

"_So how was your little dance party with Asian? Other Asian?" Santana turned to Brittany, who only shrugged, before finally settling on, "Boy Asian."_

_Rachel rolled her eyes as she pulled a binder from her locker. "It wasn't a 'dance party' Santana, we were just helping each … Wait," she stilled her movement, turning to the other two girls abruptly, "how did you know about that? I didn't tell you."_

_Brittany and Santana looked at one another as if Rachel were the clueless one in this little trio. (Ok, so maybe she wasn't always as up-to-date as Santana, but she _knew_ she had the advantage over Brittany.) "Me and Britts were spyin' on Puckerman spyin' on you." Rachel huffed but Brittany cut in before she could say anything._

"_He was watching you do this cute little twirly thing in glee, I really like your white panties with the pink and purple stars by the way," Rachel gasped and covered her mouth with one hand, "and the guys were all talking about going to Artie's house to play with Angels -,"_

"_Angels?" Rachel mouthed at Santana._

_Santana mouthed back, "Halo," and Rachel bit her lip to suppress a giggle._

"_-but Mike said he couldn't go because he was going to help you dance and you were going to help him sing."_

"_And as soon as Chang said your name, Puckerman checked out. Seriously, it was like the lights were on, but nobody was home."_

She didn't want to put too much into anything Santana said, like, _ever_. She was smart girl; she knew how bad of an idea that was. But there were times when she couldn't help but wonder about some of these 'theories' of Santana's. And right now, well, right now her body was pressed tight against Noah's and his hands just kept rubbing across her back, and she kept remembering Santana's words. There was all that, combined with the fact that she was no longer with a boy who was very sweet but didn't want the same things she did and just wasn't _right_ for her.

"I broke up with Finn." She didn't even lift her head from his shoulder as she spoke.

"I know."

_**I don't know why I'm scared 'cause I've been here before  
>Every feeling every word, I've imagined it all,<br>You never know if you never try  
>To forget your past and simply be mine<br>I dare you to let me be your, your one and only  
>I promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms<br>So come on and give me the chance  
>To prove that I'm the one who can<br>Walk that mile until the end starts**_

It wasn't as if she expected him to be surprised. Really, she would have found it a little off-putting if he thought she and Finn were still together while she brought him to prom and subsequently watched as Finn danced every song with Quinn. (She had expected that, though she still didn't think that the pair would make it for the long haul – they were one another's human version of comfort food; great to make you feel better when you're down, but really bad for you if you have too much.) Somehow, though, saying it out loud seemed to change things, to make everything so much _more_.

Rachel tried not to think too much of it when she felt herself being pulled just a little closer to Puck's warm, solid body. The fact of the matter was, she hadn't thought they could really get closer than they already were, but now that they had, she told herself he was just comforting her. He had to think that the break-up had been hard on her. It had, but only because Finn was a very sweet person, and though she knew they weren't right for each other, it still hurt her to hurt him.

"Ya doin' ok?" Right. Comforting her.

She tried to speak, but just about the time she opened her mouth to answer him, she felt a hard knot in her stomach and a slight lump forming in her throat. Unwilling to let him know about either, she only nodded against his shoulder.

"Good." He kept his left hand on her hip, but ran the right one up and down her back a few times before letting it rest between her bare shoulder blades. "I mean, I guess you knew all along, right?" It was obvious that Puck was trying to keep the conversation private, even in the crowded gym. He talked close to Rachel's ear, speaking so quietly that no one except her could hear him over Santana's voice. "He never really planned to go to New York, and you never _stopped_ planning for it."

And there it was. Noah thought she broke up with Finn because he was planning on going to Ohio State's Lima campus and helping Burt run the tire shop since he had less time now that he was a state Congressman. That wasn't entirely incorrect, but that didn't make it true either. The real truth was, for the longest time she and Finn had said that they would do the long distance thing at least until they finished college, at which point Finn might have reconsidered his desire to stay in his hometown. (There was no point in even pretending that Rachel would change her feelings about New York.) They really were each other's first loves, and they let themselves believe for many months that meant things would work out, one way or another. But suddenly, because to Rachel it really did feel like she woke up one morning and everything felt different, she realized that the thought of going to New York without Finn no longer made her feel that dull ache in her chest or the painful lump in her throat.

In almost the same moment that Rachel realized first loves don't always last forever, she realized that while one sweet but simple boy didn't want to follow after her while she followed her dreams (and she was now strangely okay with that), there was another, not-always-so-sweet and always-complicated boy who might. Well, she wasn't looking so deeply into things that she thought he would actually want to follow _her_, but she did know that he would be a much better fit for New York than Finn would, and that it was something he had actually thought seriously about.

Rachel was starting to feel dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the slow, lazy circles Puck was turning them in, keeping with the rhythm of the music and Santana's voice. For the first time since he had led her to the floor and wrapped his arms around her, Rachel lifted her head from Puck's shoulder and looked at his face. She was a little startled to find his eyes staring back at her. She noticed that they were darker than usual, almost all hints of green missing from the normal hazel shade.

It was too much. All of it was just too much for her to handle. Feeling her chest tighten to the point that she thought she might stop breathing any second, Rachel slid her hands around to the front of Puck's shoulders and pushed him away. She could see the confusion in every line of his face, but she could only shake her head in return. She tried to apologize, but when she opened her mouth it was dry and nothing came out, so instead she turned on her heel and ran from the gym as quickly as she could in four-inch heels and a dress with several layers of tulle.

_**I know it ain't easy  
>Giving up your heart<br>I know it ain't easy  
>Giving up your heart<br>(Nobody's perfect)  
>I know it ain't easy,<br>(Trust me I've learnt it)  
>Giving up your heart<br>(Nobody's perfect)  
>I know it ain't easy,<br>(Trust me I've learnt it)  
>Giving up your heart<br>I know it ain't easy  
>Giving up your heart<strong>_

'_Breathe, in and out. Good girl.' _Rachel mentally recited to herself the words that her daddies used to say to her – words that helped calm her when she was very young and had stage fright, or when she was a bit older and got her feelings hurt by a spiteful word from a classmate, or then when she was even older and felt like her heart was smashing into a million pieces. She tried not to think about how, for the past several years, Noah had been somehow tangled up in the reasons behind those words more often than not. But tonight – tonight he wasn't just a part, just a string in the knot that had formed in her stomach and made her run from the gym so that she could barely hear Santana's voice floating through the halls; tonight he was the whole twisted ball. Everything about this – from her labored breathing to her racing heart to her shaking hands – was all Noah.

Rachel was so focused on not thinking about him as she stood – her back pressed against his locker and her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clutching at the shimmering pink material covering her stomach – that she completely missed it when Puck careened around the corner, his rented dress shoes sliding precariously on the tile floor. She had no idea that he was in the hall at all until he spoke.

"What the hell Rach? I been lookin' everywhere for you. I went to the choir room, the auditorium, your locker – hell, I even checked all the girls' bathrooms. Let's ignore for a minute the fact that you just ran out and left me standin' on the dance floor like a freakin' chump, what're you doin' hidin' out here?"

She tried not to let him see how he'd startled her, catching her breath quickly and letting it back out slowly. "I feel safe here." She still hadn't opened her eyes.

"At my locker?" Puck didn't even try to mask his bewilderment.

Rachel nodded. "Yes," she opened her eyes slowly. "So many times I've been hurt, or downright broken, and I've come here, and you've – you've fixed me."

Puck reached out to her, letting his fingertips ghost over her cheek before taking both of her hands in his. "So … do you wanna tell me what the problem is then? Although, I gotta be honest here Rach, I'm a little worried I won't be able to fix it this time 'cause I'm the one you're hidin' from." He took a step closer to her, letting their hands fall, more relaxed, between them. He still didn't let her go, possibly tangling their fingers even more tightly together.

She stared back at him for a long moment, noticing how his eyes were greener out there in the dark hallway than they had been in the gym, before finally dropping her eyes to study their hands. "I-I didn't break up with Finn because he wouldn't go to New York with me." She waited for a reaction, looking back up at him when she felt that an eternity had passed and nothing had happened. He was still standing just as he had been, but his jaw was a little more set and his nostrils seemed to flare a little as he breathed. "I broke up with him …" _'Breathe, in and out. Good girl.'_ "Because I didn't want him to go. Not … anymore, anyway."

"Look, I … I'm not sure I follow," Puck loosened his grip on one of her hands, releasing the other one altogether to run his own through his short hair. "And I sure as shit don't know what that has to do with you runnin' out on me. Did I do somethin'?"

Rachel really did feel bad. He looked sincerely concerned, and she didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. "No, no. Of course not Noah, you were being perf – a perfect gentleman. I just … it was too much." She pulled her other hand from his, using both of hers to push imaginary strands of hair behind her ears. She lowered her eyes again, quickly, because she couldn't stand the intensity that she felt with his eyes boring into hers.

"What was too much, B?" He wasn't letting her get away that easily. Rachel was his best friend; she had been for a while. If he hadn't done anything wrong, he was going to find out exactly what the problem was if he had to stand in that school hallway all night. He lifted her hands again and tugged her gently so that she pulled away from the lockers, nearly falling against him because he surprised her and she lost her balance on her heels.

"I …," Rachel hesitated. "You," she finally stated, her voice steady and even, matter-of-fact.

Puck stared her down, still as confused as before. In one breath she was telling him that he had done nothing wrong, that he was a 'perfect gentleman' (no one had accused him of _that one_ before), and in the next she was telling him that she ran away from him because he was 'too much.' "Rach, you're gonna have to -,"

"Noah, can I …" She surprised him by cutting him off. He waited, watching her expectantly.

At this point, the best way really was just to get it out there. Quick like a band-aid, right? "Can I be your one and only?"

"I … uh … what?"

"Noah, when I think of my future, myself, in New York, it's not Finn that I see there with me. He's not right for New York, not right for _me_. But you, you would thrive there, maybe even more than me at times. And I know we've had our ups and downs, and sometimes I make you want to, what was it, 'light yourself on fire?'" Puck chuckled in spite of himself. "But Noah, I promise you, I _promise_," she was squeezing his hands now, clutching at him, and tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes as she stared up at him, "I can be good to you. I can be good _for_ you. An-and, I'll be there with you, not behind you but beside you, every step of the way, no matter what you do, no matter what you need. Just please, Noah, please give me one chance to prove that to you –,"

Puck didn't think she even realized that he had let go of her hand and slid his now-free one around her waist and onto the small of her back. She didn't even pause her speech when he tugged a little and she instinctively took a step forward, closing the gap between them by a few inches.

" – to _prove_ that I can be the one for you. And I know you're not a big fan of monogamy, but I also know that when you are someone's boyfriend, you're an amazing one. I'm just asking you to … oomph." Rachel only stopped talking because a warm hand covered her mouth.

"Ya finished?" Rachel's eyes widened and she nodded her head a little, as much as possible with his hand still clamped over her mouth. "Good. My turn." He slid his hand off her mouth to cup her cheek. "I coulda told ya a year ago that Hudson wasn't right for you. I love the guy, really – he's like my brother, but he's Ohio and you're New York, and if you'da let him change that, I mighta never spoke to either of you again." Puck worked his hand from her cheek and into her hair. "As for all the rest 'a that stuff," he leaned his forehead down against hers, "you don't needa convince me of any of it. I already know all that about you. I'm just glad you figured all this shit out on your own. I mean, I'da made you realize it eventually," he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned down to speak into her ear, "I'm takin' my ass to New York in the fall too, and I can be _very_ convincing." He smirked to himself when he saw her shiver, pulling away to speak to her normally again, "But it's better this way."

Rachel had a million and one things running through her mind, but for the life of her, it was impossible to focus on any of it when Noah had one hand on the small of her back and the other tangled in her hair and he was staring down at her that way. '_Breathe, in and out. Good girl._' She swallowed heavily before speaking. "So, does this mean …?"

Puck leaned down to kiss her softly, sweetly on the lips. "All that other stuff, the other people- placeholders. Just passin' the time. You were always gonna be my one and only, Rach."

_**So I dare you to let me be your, your one and only  
>I promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms<br>So come on and give me the chance  
>To prove I'm the one who can<br>Walk that mile until the end starts  
>Come on and give me a chance<br>To prove that I'm the one who can  
>Walk that mile until the end starts.<strong>_


	14. Home Sweet Home

**Home Sweet Home – Motley Crue**

_**You know I'm a dreamer  
>But my heart's of gold<br>I had to run away high  
>So, I wouldn't come home low<strong>_

The first thing Rachel did when she walked through her front door was kick off her shoes. They were gorgeous – deep, almost pewter-colored silver with just the right amount of crystal embellishment – but they were also incredibly painful. Sure, when she was posing for pictures with Neil Patrick Harris, the nearly five inches that the heels added to her height were a blessing. But now that the award show was over and she was back in the comfort of her own home, she wasn't sure the foot and back pain were worth it. She remembered why in high school, even when she was dating Finn, she always wore flats.

Rachel made her way slowly through her spacious apartment toward the master suite in the back. The first thing she had done when she got her role as Fanny Brice in a revival of 'Funny Girl' was upgrade her living quarters from the tiny one-bedroom place she had shared with Kurt and Blaine, where a pull-out sofa and wardrobe in the corner of the living room served as her bedroom. Her new place was by no means a penthouse suite, but it had 1,200 square feet and two bedrooms, and it was all hers. She pulled bobby pins from her hair as she walked, stopping in the guest bathroom to drop them in the little dish on the counter. She knew she did things a little backward – most people kept their guest bathrooms tidy and free of their own clutter – but her master bath with its round Jacuzzi tub and marble countertops was her own personal little corner of heaven, not to be infringed upon by workaday things like hair clips and pins.

When she got to her bedroom, Rachel's first stop was the beautiful mahogany jewelry chest her fathers had given her as a housewarming gift when she moved into her apartment. She pulled the heavy chandelier earrings from her ears and dropped them into the top of the chest before carefully opening the clasp of the intricately adorned necklace her publicist had borrowed for her from a jewelry store uptown. Finally, after admiring it one last time, she slid off the large, flower-shaped ring Kurt had given her as a "Tony-nomination gift." Her dress was a beautiful but simple Kurt Hummel creation in a light shade of gray that complimented her hair and skin-tone perfectly. She loved the dress and had fallen in love with Kurt all over again as soon as the zipper was all the way up at the first fitting. Kurt had designed the dress especially for her, making the gown intentionally simple and understated. He wanted her to go bold with her accessories, and bold they were – leaving her feeling 10 pounds lighter once she had taken them off.

After tucking all the jewelry away safely, Rachel peeled off the dress itself and hung it carefully in her wardrobe alongside the dress she had worn to Kurt's debut fashion show and the one she wore to the cast party after opening night. She moved to her master bathroom to wash her face then back into the bedroom to slip into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, her preferred pajamas for warm weather. As she switched on the television that sat atop her dresser, the only remnant of her glamorous night was the silver bracelet that still dangled from her left wrist. She hadn't worn the bracelet since her graduation from NYU, over two years prior (and only a handful of times before that, since high school). Wearing it now took her back to a time when she barely took it off, and she let herself believe, for just a few moments, that she still wore it every day, that the metal didn't feel cold and foreign against her skin. She closed her eyes and saw, from the bed of a beat-up pick-up truck, stars that she hadn't been able to make out since moving to New York. She missed that view.

_**Just when things went right  
>Doesn't mean they're always wrong<br>Just take this song and you'll never feel  
>Left all alone<strong>_

_Even as she slipped into consciousness, Rachel could tell that Noah was awake. When he was asleep, he was so relaxed, so at ease, so … peaceful, but she could feel the tension in his arms and legs – even in his torso – as she woke. She had fully intended to let him know that she was awake – duplicity was unacceptable – but then she heard him. She had already felt the way his right hand skated up and down her back (it may have been what woke her, but she wouldn't think of complaining), but the more awake she became, the more aware she became. The next thing she noticed was how the fingers of his left hand moved over her shoulder, playing her like his guitar. Even then she was ready to move, to lift her head and look up at him with soft eyes and wish him good morning. But when his breath blew gently across her ear and she could barely make out his hushed words, she froze. She just couldn't move._

_Rachel lay as still as possible, willing her accelerating heart to cooperate and just slow down. She was suddenly desperate to keep him thinking she was still asleep. She felt a little like a voyeur, spying on him in a moment when he thought no one knew what he was doing, but she rationalized it by telling herself that he wouldn't mind. Besides, she was his girlfriend and she was leaving in a few hours. That gave her the right. Right? She listened intently to make out the words slipping from his lips. She knew it was a song before she actually got the words themselves, and when she finally made out, "You always have my unspoken passion, although I might seem not to care," she knew (without really knowing, because as musically inclined as she was, guitar just wasn't an instrument she had managed to master) that his fingers were deftly marking out the chords of one of Mr. Billy Joel's most popular, most _romantic_ songs. She was somewhat familiar with the song, but he had never sung it to her before, and it certainly wasn't one she knew by heart. She listened even more carefully, because she knew that the words coming from his mouth were also coming from his heart. Even in glee club, any song he chose and sang by himself had meaning, but any song he sang to her when they were alone could usually be relied on to expose exactly what he was feeling at the time. He often fell back on songs to tell her things he was uncomfortable saying outright. They were quite alike in that way._

_At some point over the next few lines, Rachel must have shifted or tensed unknowingly, because Noah pulled her closer and dropped his mouth so that it was almost resting on her ear and sang the first line of the last verse in a louder, almost normal, tone. She snuggled into his embrace and buried her face in his chest to hide the tears that would undoubtedly spill over at any second. She pressed a kiss into his skin, just over his heart. Almost immediately after the first tear slipped out of her eye and onto her cheek, she felt Noah's hand move to gently lift her head so that his eyes met her own. He sang the last line of the song, loudly and clearly, looking into her eyes as he did. He only broke the gaze to drop a soft kiss to her forehead. _

"_Good morning beautiful." And for some reason, that was it. Those three words were her breaking point. That wasn't the first time that she had gotten to wake up in his arms (although she could count on one hand the number of times that it had happened), but it would definitely be the last for a long, **long **time. Almost instantly, she began to sob, her entire body trembling as he held her close, his hands running soothingly over her body in an attempt to comfort her. Finally, after several minutes that felt like a lifetime, the tears stopped flowing and Puck's arms loosened so that they could both move from the bed of the truck._

She remembers little of what happened next. It was a blur of packing and driving and pretending she was anywhere else, _doing_ anything else. But what she does remember is that there were no words between them. Neither of them spoke at all from the time they rose from their makeshift bed until they had gotten back to her house, their supplies put away and the two of them standing almost awkwardly on her front porch. Because there was really nothing else that they could do, she leaned into Noah as he kissed her one last time, holding her breath when he bent to whisper in her ear. "I love you, B."

She honestly doesn't remember much of the rest of that day either – the car ride with her dads blending into the plane ride, which in turn blended into the taxi ride from the airport to her dorm. Then there was, of course, the jumble of unpacking and meeting her roommate and dorm mates and going out for an obligatory 'first night dinner' at the dining hall on campus. It's from the moment she woke up the next morning that her memory snaps clearly back into focus.

_She woke with a start, her heart beating rapidly and a vague, dull ache filling her chest. She stretched her arms over her head as the fog cleared from her mind and eyes. Taking in her surroundings and mentally orienting herself to the unfamiliar setting, she pushed herself up slowly as the ache grew stronger. As she moved, one of the charms on her bracelet snagged on a loose thread in her new quilt. The dull ache suddenly grew into a crushing pain as she freed the bracelet and literally stared down at Noah's words to her. She grabbed for her cell phone, and the pain became unbearable when she saw that she had two missed calls – one from her daddy and one from Kurt – and one text – also from her daddy. Her phone had died at some point during her unpacking fiasco, and the charger was, of course, in the last box she opened, so she left it plugged in while she went to dinner with the girls on her hall. That dinner had dragged on and turned into an impromptu tour of campus, the girls looking at everything through new eyes and with a new perspective now that they knew where they would be living. When she finally got back to her room, Rachel was so exhausted that she barely took the time to change into pajamas before falling into bed. _

_Rachel felt bad about not calling Noah the night before, but she had been telling him for days (in short, broken conversations – they had a silent agreement not to bring up the move for more than a minute or two) that she would be busy and wrapped up in just trying to get into her room for the first day or so, so he should expect her to be distracted and not thinking clearly (her way of saying, "Picking up my cell phone will be the last thing on my mind. Please don't take it personally."). He had never been shy about calling her in the middle of, well, anything, before, so she didn't expect him to be now. The fact that he hadn't called even once since they separated over 24 hours before worried her. She couldn't imagine what she could have done in their last moments together to deserve the silent treatment. Her eyes filled with tears when she remembered how sweetly he had sung to her, easily the best wake-up call she had ever had. But then her breathing stopped as the words to the song ran through her head. One line in particular grabbed her attention. He had sung, "What will it take till you believe in me, the way that I believe in you." Did he really think that – that she didn't believe in him? She wasn't leaving because she didn't believe in him. If anything, she thought that her leaving with their relationship intact showed how much she did believe in him – how she expected him to be with her eventually. _

Five years later, those words still haunted Rachel. She never had called him, instead waiting in vain for him to call her. Part of her thought that if he was upset she should give him his space and let him come to her when he was ready, but an even bigger part was just terrified of hearing him actually tell her it was over. So she never called. And for that entire first year, and even sometimes after that, whenever her phone rang her heart stopped for just a second and she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily before letting herself look at the caller id, both hoping and fearing that it would be him.

_**Take me to your heart  
>Feel me in your bones<br>Just one more night  
>And I'm comin' off this<br>Long and winding road**_

"Oh Miss Berry, we're home!"

"You know, I don't know if we can call her Miss Berry anymore now that she's going to be married to that Tony."

Rachel smiled softly at her friends' banter as it floated down the hall and into her bedroom. Blaine's last words sent a tingle down her spine and caused her stomach to tighten. Kurt and Blaine's entry into the apartment drew Rachel out of her memories and back into the present. She had apparently lost track of time somewhere between releasing the clasp on her bracelet and the moment the boys got home. She ran her fingertips over the metal of the charm bracelet where it now lay, secure back in its black velvet box. She let her fingers linger on the 'N' charm a second longer than the others, slamming the box closed with her other hand so quickly that she almost nipped her own fingertips when she heard footsteps coming her way. She jerked her underwear drawer open hurriedly before slowing down to slide the box carefully to the back corner.

"Hey guys. How was it?" Rachel closed the drawer and turned to her bedroom door just as it began to open, Blaine poking his head in timidly to find her leaning 'casually' against her dresser.

"Are we welcome?"

"Of course, silly! Get in here! I want to hear all about it." Rachel had gone to one party long enough to show her face, but slipped out after having been there for less than 20 minutes. She sort of felt obligated, especially after winning, to show up, but she had no desire to actually _be_ at a party. Kurt and Blaine, on the other hand, were dying for that opportunity. Their lives had changed quite a bit since they both moved back to Ohio, and while they were happy there, they missed getting to have nights like this now and then. She couldn't begrudge them that, so while she just wanted to be home, she basically demanded that they stay. "How was it, was it great?"

"Incredible." Kurt breezed past Blaine, who was still standing just inside the doorway, to fling himself onto Rachel's bed. "Rachel, you should have seen some of those dresses. Whatever glimpses you got on the red carpet or inside the theatre could not begin to do justice to the things I saw tonight – the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between." He rolled onto his back and propped himself up a little on his elbows to look over at his friend. "But the highlight of it all was how we couldn't take three steps without someone coming to ask if we were 'Rachel Berry's friends.' When I confirmed that I was, in fact, your _best_ friend," Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled warmly back at him, "they all proceeded to gush over how absolutely amazing you are."

"Yes," Blaine cut in, taking a few steps to wrap an arm loosely around Rachel's waist and kiss her cheek softly before going to sit on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, "and when they inevitably followed that with how beautiful you looked, my so-very-modest boyfriend here proceeded to inform them all, without missing a beat, that you were wearing a Kurt Hummel original, and that he just so happened to be Kurt Hummel."

Rachel and Blaine both laughed, but Kurt only lifted one shoulder noncommittally. "Whatever. It's just good business. Besides," he sat upright, "Rachel spent the first three years of high school going around and outright telling everyone how talented she was. It's not like she has room to be upset with me about a little self-promotion. _Well-deserved_ self promotion." Kurt stood and moved to hug Rachel quickly. "You really did look gorgeous, my dress just accentuated that," he whispered in her ear before stepping back to smile tiredly and swat at her backside before heading toward the door. "Ok, you two feel free to lady-chat as long as you want, but it's late and I absolutely must shower and moisturize before bed. Blaine – don't forget that we have brunch with Brandon and his new _someone_ tomorrow. Boy's worse than Santana, wish he'd just make up his damn mind already," Kurt grumbled on his way out the door, much to the amusement of the two he was leaving behind.

_**I'm on my way, I'm on my way  
>Home sweet home, tonight tonight<br>I'm on my way, I'm on my way  
>Home sweet home<strong>_

The door closed and Blaine eyed Rachel silently as she shifted from foot to foot under his gaze. Kurt may have been too caught up in his 'Cinderella' moment (although to be honest, Kurt was more the fairy godmother in this little story, but don't tell him that) to notice that something seemed off with Rachel, but Blaine had always been the more level-headed of the two. He knew from the moment that he and his boyfriend had walked through the bedroom door that something was up with their friend. She was hovering over that dresser like it held the secret to life, and the fire that had been in her eyes all evening, especially bright since her big win, was extinguished. He knew that some of the magic of the evening probably died down when she came home and changed into pajamas, washing her face and returning her hair to normal as well, but only a few hours had passed. That was not nearly enough time for the fire to be burned out altogether. There was something else to it.

"Alright, what's up?" Blaine rolled his eyes when Rachel wouldn't meet them. "Rachel Berry, something is going on with you. And don't try to tell me you're just tired out from the excitement of the evening, 'cause I won't buy it."

Rachel put on her best innocent face, tilting her head and keeping one hand on the dresser while the other nervously slid behind her back. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Blaine Anderson."

The use of his full name told Blaine otherwise. "Oh little diva, I think you do." Blaine smirked as Rachel blushed. "I want to know why you're hugging your dresser like it's your new best friend," Rachel's hand dropped and she took a step away from the piece of furniture. "I want to know why you've barely said five words since Kurt and I got home," he watched her eyes drop to her feet. "But mostly, I want to know why you don't look like someone who just won a game of Bingo, let alone a Tony." Blaine watched Rachel's chest heave with a deep sigh. "C'mere, sugar." He opened his arms and waited, wiggling his fingers at her when she finally looked up at him.

Rachel hesitated for a second more before making her way over to Blaine and perching gingerly on his knee. She relaxed into him when his arms wound around her waist and he pulled her back to rest his chin on her shoulder. For several minutes, neither of them said anything. Finally, without lifting her own head from where her cheek rested softly against Blaine's hair, Rachel breathed out softly, "Do you miss it?"

"Do I miss what?" Blaine lifted his head slowly, giving her time to move her own along the way. When they were both upright, Blaine looked her in the eyes, trying to decipher the meaning of her question.

"All this."

"Do I miss Tony Awards and after-parties where my boyfriend shamelessly promotes himself on our best friend's coattails? Well, this was my first time, so no, I guess I don't."

Rachel rolled her eyes and giggled softly. She knew Blaine was being intentionally silly just to lighten the mood, but that didn't stop it from working. "Not this specifically, silly, but you know, just … everything." She didn't know why he continued to just stare at her as if he didn't get it. "Do you miss the city, the lights, the hustle and bustle, all of that? Do you ever regret moving back to Lima?"

"You do realize those are two different questions, right?" Rachel peered back at him with wide eyes. "Missing New York and regretting going back to Lima aren't the same thing at all. Of course I miss the city. I do miss the lights. I miss my old job and being able to get Chinese food at three in the morning. And I especially miss _you_. No one can help me through Kurt Hummel drama like Miss Rachel Berry." He squeezed his arms around her middle and smiled when she let out a small giggle. "But, even with all that, I don't regret moving back home. You want to know why?" He didn't wait for her to reply, continuing when she lifted her eyebrows. "Because it's just that – home. I love New York. The times Kurt and I spend up here with you are some of the best of my life. But, New York just isn't my home. I wanted it to be, but when my dad got sick and I went back to help my mom out, I realized that no matter how much I love the city, it's not where I'm meant to be."

Rachel seemed to be thinking this over. She slid off Blaine's lap to sit next to him on the trunk and propped her elbows on her knees to rest her chin in her hands. He couldn't read the expression on her face.

"Would you care to tell me what this is all about?"

Rachel ignored his question, responding with another of her own. "What about Kurt; does he regret it?"

"Well, I can't really answer that question for him," Blaine put his hands behind him and leaned back slightly, resting his weight on them. "But I can tell you what he said when he showed up on my parents' doorstep." Rachel looked up at him, eyes wide with interest. "He said he was sorry for telling me that I had to choose between him and Ohio. He said he was sorry he had broken up with me in such an immature fashion when I told him that wasn't a choice I was willing to make. Then he said that he knew I was dating someone – I wasn't, by the way, I had been on a few truly awful dates, but that Finn has a big mouth and he tends to get things confused – but that even so, home was wherever I was. So if that meant doing his designing and conducting his business from Ohio while he worked to prove to me that he was better for me than whomever this new 'home wrecker' was," Blaine mocked Kurt with air quotes, much to Rachel's amusement, "so be it. Then he kissed me on the cheek and said he would be staying at Finn an-," Blaine stopped abruptly, blushing slightly and clearing his throat. "- _Finn_'s house. Before I could say anything, he was gone. I was out the door in the exact amount of time it took me to find a pair of shoes and my mom's car keys. I was practically knocking down Finn's door before Kurt could even unpack his first tube of moisturizer."

Rachel thought about everything Blaine had said. She thought about how he had gone back to Ohio for his family, then about how her own dad had been telling her how worried he was getting about her Daddy's heart, thanks to his poor eating habits and the genetic risk he faced simply because of his race. Then she thought about Kurt; he had never really told her the full story of his move to Ohio, leaving her to speculate until now. Kurt was the only person she had ever known who was so much like her. They had the same drive, the same passion. And in high school they had both sworn that there was no way they could be happy anywhere but New York. But Kurt seemed happy. He hadn't had to quit his job, and although he didn't get to do quite as much as he did when he was in the city, he was thriving at it from Lima. He and Blaine were planning to come back to New York late the next summer or early that fall to get married. Ok, so they still wouldn't technically be married in Ohio, but either way, those didn't sound like the actions of someone who regretted his choices.

_**You know that I've seen  
>Too many romantic dreams<br>Up in lights, fallin' off  
>The silver screen<strong>_

Blaine never told Kurt about his somewhat cryptic conversation with Rachel. For one thing, he always tried his best to stay out of the middle of things that weren't his business directly. For another, he wasn't even completely sure what he would tell, because he never did get a clear answer from Rachel as to why they were playing 20 questions regarding his and Kurt's personal life. They talked for nearly an hour, Rachel dodging all of his questions and instead continuing to pepper him with ones of her own. They (he) talked about his family, about Kurt's family, about both of their jobs, even their house and how they ended up with it. And then he left her room to join Kurt in bed, still confused and, honestly, a little worried about his friend.

But Blaine didn't have to keep his 'secret' for long. Less than two weeks after he and Kurt returned to Lima from visiting Rachel and attending the Tonys, Rachel sent both men frantic-sounding texts. (Yes – a text can 'sound' frantic, especially when it comes from Rachel Berry and uses all capital letters and an abundance of exclamation points.) When they logged onto Skype that night as ordered, Rachel was waiting. "I'm moving." She didn't even give them a chance to say hello.

"Well," Blaine smirked, "hello to you too, sugar."

Kurt didn't take the news so well. "Excuse me! What in Prada do you mean you are moving?" He didn't give her time to answer. "You'll never find another decent apartment in Manhattan that you can afford. You _love_ your apartment!"

Rachel waited (somewhat) patiently for Kurt to finish his rant. When he finally seemed to be finished, she spoke to him sweetly. "Kurt, I can't disagree with anything you've said." She watched him look smugly into the webcam. "But I'm not moving into another place in Manhattan."

"Oh Rachel no!" Kurt nearly exploded, Blaine and Rachel both rolling their eyes at his dramatics. "Not Brooklyn! You can't do that to yourself; you can't do that to me! Please, Rachel."

Rachel couldn't help but giggle at the tears she could see forming in her friend's eyes. "No Kurt, not Brooklyn." She watched Kurt heave a deep sigh of relief, one hand flying to cover his heart and the other searching out Blaine's. "I was thinking somewhere a bit farther from here and a bit closer to you." Rachel lowered her head and looked up at the camera from beneath her lashes.

Kurt only looked more confused, but a sudden understanding dawned on Blaine. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, ready for the show he knew would begin as soon as Rachel dropped her bombshell on her best friend, quite possibly the only person on earth more dramatic than her.

"I'm going to," Rachel paused, taking a deep breath and waiting until she was sure she had both boys' full attention, "move back to Lima."

Blaine only smiled softly. Okay, so he hadn't actually seen this coming until about a minute before, but even then he hadn't been surprised. If anything, he was surprised that their conversation in her bedroom hadn't clued him in to what was going on with her. Kurt, on the other hand, was beside himself. He spend nearly 30 minutes trying to convince Rachel that she didn't really want to move back and that she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

"I don't understand!" Rachel had finally had enough. She was exasperated with Kurt and his arguments. "You moved back to Lima, you're happy, right?" She didn't think he even realized he was doing it when his hand moved to rest on Blaine's knee.

"Of course I am." His voice was softer than it had been since they started the conversation. "But Rachel," he leaned forward and looked at her searchingly. "I came back to a family, and ... and to Blaine." Blaine smiled. "And I was able to bring my career with me. I didn't give anything up by coming back, and I gained the most important thing in my life. But you don't have that sweetie. You have an amazing career that you can't bring with you, and while I know Blaine and I are ah-mazing, you don't really have anything else to come back for."

"That's not true. As you have, so modestly, pointed out, my two best friends in the _world_ are there," she smiled and winked, "and my family – my dads – are there. That's important to me and spending so much time away from them these past five years has been difficult for me, even as much as I love it here. And as for my career, well, I'm not sure you're completely right about that either." If she hadn't been so nervous, both about telling Kurt and Blaine about her decision and about the decision itself, she would have found the expression on Kurt's face absolutely priceless. "I've been in two Broadway shows – one of them literally being my dream role – and I've won a Tony. I did what I came here to do, much sooner than even I thought possible. Sure, I could stay here and continue being wildly successful, I'm sure. But it would never change anything that I've already done, and I seriously doubt it would ever get any better than Fanny Brice and performing 'Don't Rain on my Parade' at the Tonys just before winning one." She watched Kurt's mouth open, aware that he had a reply ready. "No Kurt, you're not going to talk me out of this. Please don't try. Just – Just be my friends. I need you to be my friends right now."

It took a few more minutes, but Rachel finally convinced Kurt that she had not, in fact, lost her mind and that the move was something she had thought out and really wanted. Blaine only sat there watching Rachel and Kurt both in turn. He knew it was pointless to interject; his boyfriend and best friend were both much too strong-willed for him to even attempt that. But then, once Kurt accepted that Rachel really was going to cease being a New Yorker and relocate her life back to Ohio, Blaine almost had to cover his ears to block out the shrieks. For someone who had been so nervous to share her decision in the first place, and someone who had initially been so unwilling to hear it, the two were certainly happy about it once it was out there.

"Okay," Rachel breathed out once she and Kurt had finally stopped screaming, "there is one more thing that I need from you guys."

"Anything sugar." Kurt had gotten his chance to be the squealing, excited best friend, now it was Blaine's turn to step up and play his part as the supportive best friend.

"I need a house."

"What!" Blaine put a hand over Kurt's to calm him. Leave it to Kurt to misunderstand her request.

"I'll talk to mom tomorrow. I'll let her know to run any listings by me that she thinks you might like. Why don't you e-mail me any requests or specifications you have; I'll pass them along to her."

"Thank you." Rachel smiled at her two best friends gratefully. "Oh, and one more thing, and this one really is the last, I promise." She giggled sheepishly at the looks on the men's faces. Was there ever a 'last thing' with Rachel Berry? "This stays between us. I mean, my dads will know, of course, but that's it. No one else."

"But why -," Kurt's question was cut off by Blaine's hand gripping his knee tightly, hopefully out of the webcam's range.

"Of course Rachel, whatever you want. We won't tell a soul, and I'll be sure to ask mom to keep it quiet as well. She can just tell her bosses that I'm her client or something." Blaine sent her a knowing look through the webcam. "I mean, the last thing you need is to have to deal with media questions and speculation as to why recent Tony-award-winner Rachel Berry is giving up everything to go flitting back to Ohio. _Everyone_ can find out whenever you are ready."

Rachel nodded and sent Blaine another appreciative smile, partly for conceding so easily to her request, but mostly for telling the lie that she didn't want to have to tell her best friends – she was more than capable of dealing with the media on her own, but she had even more daunting reasons to want to keep the move a secret until she was settled and all was final.

_**My heart's like an open book  
>For the whole world to read<br>Sometime, nothing keeps me together  
>At the seams<strong>_

It had been over three months since Rachel had told Blaine and Kurt about her plans to move back to Lima and asked them to help her find a house, and Mrs. Anderson had still yet to find her a suitable home. It wasn't that she was being overly picky, really. It was just that Lima was a very small, very family-oriented town, and houses just didn't come available that often. Rachel almost wondered how Blaine's mother, and her co-workers at the real estate agency, kept afloat, but she knew that there had probably been some houses available that Blaine hadn't passed on to her for various reasons. She also knew that much of their business came from the new subdivisions being built on the outskirts of town, but those subdivisions didn't interest Rachel. It really didn't bother her – the waiting. She had promised her director that she would stay with the show until the spring, when an up-and-coming young actress would finish her run as Belle in _Beauty and the Beast_ and move over to take Rachel's place as Fanny Brice. And since she was staying until April for the show anyway, she decided she may as well stay until her lease was up at the end of May. That left right at eight months for Mrs. Anderson to find Rachel's new home. She had faith.

Besides, now Rachel had company on their way to distract her, and she refused to let herself think about anything else. She had been a little hesitant when Finn first contacted her asking for help with a birthday/anniversary gift for his girlfriend, but once she agreed, she found herself each day getting more and more anxious to see her old friend and meet his new girlfriend. It had been almost five months since she had set aside the tickets and used her connections to get Finn a great deal on a hotel, and now she waited impatiently for Finn and Chelsea to arrive at her favorite diner. She had helped Finn with all the planning, suggesting that he plan the trip so that the show would fall on the last full day of their visit, giving Chelsea something to look forward to over the four days they would be in the city and ensuring that the trip would end on a high note. Rachel had given Finn suggestions for how to fill the first three days of the trip, offering to meet them for a late lunch after they had arrived in the city and checked into their hotel, and then to host them at her own home the next evening for dinner and drinks. She had really tried not to be pushy about it, but that didn't appear to be an issue, as Finn seemed to be incredibly excited by her offer. Apparently Chelsea was a fan.

When Finn and Chelsea finally arrived at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Rachel realized that she hadn't ever been that excited to see him, even when they were dating. She exchanged hugs with both members of the couple before they all sat down to order and talk – Rachel wanting to both catch up on everything that had happened in Finn's life over the past five years (from his own mouth, she already knew most everything from Kurt) and learn everything there was to know about Chelsea. She was amazed, as was Finn, to find that, for as different as she and Chelsea were, they got along incredibly well. Under different circumstances (future circumstances?) they could probably be the best of friends. She was truly sad to say goodbye to them when she couldn't wait another minute longer to leave for the theatre, but everyone involved reaffirmed that they were looking forward to a subsequent meeting the following night at Rachel's apartment. As Rachel walked the eight blocks to the theatre, she could only think that her current feelings were only further proof that she was doing the right thing.

The next night, Rachel's doorbell rang just as she was pulling a fresh loaf of garlic bread from the oven. Smiling and humming to herself softly, she let Finn and Chelsea into her home. All through dinner, she couldn't stop thinking about how nice it was to share an evening with people who didn't expect anything from her. Finn and Chelsea didn't want to have dinner with _Rachel Berry – Broadway Star_, they wanted to have dinner with _Rachel Berry – Finn's friend from high school._

"Seriously?" Chelsea peered at Finn over the rim of her wine glass, the three friends lounging on various pieces of furniture in Rachel's living room after dinner. "You actually _broke_ her _nose_?"

"Come on!" Finn took another large swig of his beer before setting the bottle on the end table. "That was like ...," both girls watched as he did the math in his head, "almost seven years ago! And it's not like I did it on purpose." He pointed at Rachel almost accusingly, "She'd been watching me dance for a year and a half. She should have known not to stand so close."

Chelsea giggled as Rachel clutched a hand to her chest, gasping in mock-horror. "Why Finn, how dare – Oh, sorry, just a second." Rachel was cut off when she heard her phone vibrating on the table across the room. "Hello?" she chirped into the phone.

"Rachel, it's Kurt, is Finn there?"

"Yes, of course," Rachel smiled across the room at her guests. Kurt knew the plan for Finn's trip, so he should have known that Finn and Chelsea would be at Rachel's apartment at that time.

"Ok, don't react. Act like this is a business call or something and get somewhere they can't hear you."

"I'm sorry guys," Rachel looked at her guests apologetically, internally thanking Tisch for her training as an actress, "but this is really important. I'm just going to step out onto the balcony and I'll be right back, I promise." Both Finn and Chelsea nodded at her and smiled warmly. "Finn, the remote is in that wooden box on the coffee table and there are more beers in the fridge. Chelsea, I left the wine on the kitchen counter if you need a refill." She continued to smile at them both as she grabbed her own wine glass from the coffee table and backed out the sliding glass door and onto the balcony, making sure to close the door securely behind her.

"Kurt," she hissed into the phone once she felt it was safe, "is everything okay? Oh God, did something happen to Carol? Your dad?" Rachel's heart was racing and she knew her voice was growing more frantic by the second. She gripped the bowl of her wine glass so tightly in the hand that wasn't clutching the phone that it was a wonder it didn't shatter between her fingers.

"Geez Rachel, it's nothing like that. Must you always be so dramatic?"

"Seriously, Kurt?" she spat. She could hear Blaine reprimanding him on the other end of the line as well. "_You_ called _me_ with this whole cloak and dagger routine, remember?"

"Well, you're the one who wanted -,"

Kurt's voice dropped off and Rachel could hear a commotion on the other end of the line before Blaine's smooth voice took over.

"Hey sugar. Do you remember old Mrs. Carpenter, a few blocks down from McKinley?"

"Of course! My daddy used to help her with her yard, and she would bring me in for hot cocoa in the fall when he cleaned up all the leaves from that big maple tree she had." Rachel smiled at her memories of the woman and took a sip of her wine, instantly more relaxed than she had been talking to Kurt. "Then in middle school, when I informed her that I had made the decision to become a vegan, she started buying me non-dairy cocoa. She's a precious woman."

"And what did you think of her house?" Blaine's smile was almost audible through the phone.

"Are you kidding?" Rachel gushed, "I adore that house. It's gorgeous, with that little balcony on the second floor and those wooden posts on the porch, and the kitchen is perfect. But, Blaine, why are you asking me this?" Confusion tinged Rachel's voice until the implications of Blaine's question really sank in. "Oh God, Blaine, please tell me she didn't ..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"No, no." Blaine's voice was calm, almost soothing. "Nothing like that, Rach. Her grandson got married last year and he and his wife finally convinced her to move to a little retirement community close to them in Florida."

"So ..." Rachel didn't want to let herself get too excited. "Her house, it's ... for sale?"

"Well," Blaine hesitated, "not technically. Not yet. But Mrs. Carpenter knows my mom, has known her practically her entire life. She called and told her that she's going to be moving in the spring and that she wanted mom to have first shot at the house. We can have everything finalized and the whole place in your name before it can even go on the market."

"Blaine, that's ... you're wonderful." Rachel blindly reached to set her glass on the balcony railing then placed a hand over her chest and blinked back tears as she watched Finn and Chelsea move around her living room, taking in all the pieces of her life that decorated her current home.

~.~

Later that night, Finn climbed into the plush hotel bed with his girlfriend and wrapped an arm around her waist only to be stopped when the words coming from her mouth were not at all what he expected.

"She's still in love with him." Chelsea folded her hands on top of her stomach and stared up at the ceiling.

"Huh?" Finn stopped his oral assault on his girlfriend's neck.

"Rachel," Chelsea stated matter-of-factly. "She's still in love with Puck."

"Babe," Finn groaned, rolling his eyes and falling back onto the bed. As soon as they had checked in at the Toledo airport and Chelsea figured out where they were going, Finn made her promise not to mention Puck to Rachel. Apparently that rule didn't extend to when the two of them were alone in their hotel room.

"No Finn, I mean it. Did you see where her Tony was?"

"Yeah, it was on one of those weird bookshelves that looks like it's just, like, floating there. Those things are so weird." Finn shuddered a little and his voice took on an almost whiny tone.

Chelsea rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. "Right, but did you see what else was on the shelf?" Finn shrugged. "A Nationals picture from your senior year."

"Oh." Finn clearly didn't see the significance. "Guess that was like, her _wall of Rachel winning stuff._ You shoulda seen her place in high school. I bet her dads have, like, turned her room into a shrine or something. B'sides," he shrugged, "we all have that picture. I have it on my dresser. Do you think _I'm_ in love with Puck?"

Chelsea slapped him across the chest. "Cute." Finn laughed. "But it wasn't the same picture. The one you have – it's the same as the one Mercedes has, the same as the one in the trophy case at the school." Finn nodded. "Rachel's was different. I mean, it was clearly from the same time, just probably a minute or so later." Finn turned his head to look at Chelsea, intrigued. "You and Mr. Schuester were holding the trophy, turned toward the side of the stage like you were on your way out, and everyone else was looking after you and cheering. But Rachel and Puck, they were kind of on the edge of the action, just there by themselves. He was holding her by her waist and she was just staring up at him, her arms around his neck and her back turned squarely to the trophy. That sounds nothing like the posed, 'let's hoist up the trophy' picture that the rest of you have. And it certainly doesn't sound like the kind of picture that belongs on a _wall of Rachel winning stuff_. That's the kind of picture that belongs on a _wall of stuff that's really important to Rachel_." Chelsea smiled almost smugly and looked over at Finn, who was still staring at her somewhat warily. "Oh, and just last week at your mom's, I overheard Kurt on the phone giving her the same 'You-haven't-had-a-date-in-over-five-years-suck-it-up-and-get-out-there' speech that you used to give Puck at least once a week."

Finn sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Not a word to Puck babe, promise me."

_**I'm on my way, I'm on my way  
>Home sweet home, tonight tonight<br>I'm on my way, just set me free  
>Home sweet home<strong>_

"Sooo?" Kurt bounced on the balls of his feet and clasped his hands in front of his chest. "What do you think?"

"I think it's incredible." Rachel wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek before turning to do the same to Blaine. The three stood together in the foyer of Rachel's new home for the first time. "Thank you guys so much, for everything. Most recently," she laughed lightly, "for the ride."

"Don't be silly. It was our pleasure to pick you up at the airport," Blaine answered. "I'm just surprised your dads weren't falling all over themselves to do it."

Rachel shrugged. "They're working. Besides, what's the rush? There will be plenty of time for them to see me now." She smiled and ran her fingertips along the wall as she walked toward the dining room, already fully furnished and decorated by her best friends. "Really," she let her eyes sweep the room, "thank you so much for everything you've done to make this move easier on me."

Rachel wasn't being dramatic or overly liberal with her praise. She really didn't know what she would have done without Kurt and Blaine. The two men had taken care of all the details of the house-purchasing process, faxing her papers to be signed when necessary. Then, once the home was officially hers and Mrs. Carpenter was in sunny Florida with her grandson, Blaine started taking measurements and finding small things here and there to fix while Kurt immediately swooped in with fabric swatches and paint samples. By the time Rachel moved in, months after actually purchasing the house, the dining room, the den, and the third bedroom, all rooms she hadn't had in New York, were ready to be lived in. Through a combination of the internet and iPhone pictures from the guys, Rachel had purchased everything for the rooms without ever setting foot in Ohio. Kurt and Blaine then set it all up, making it possible for Rachel to walk into a new house with three rooms she didn't have to unpack and set up.

Blaine only shrugged off Rachel's gratitude. "You act like decorating a house from scratch isn't right at the top of the list of 'things that make Kurt Hummel drool.'" Kurt huffed in mock-annoyance and Blaine moved to put an arm around his shoulders. "Besides, I think we would have built the whole house from the ground up if it meant getting our girl back in town."

"Thank you." Rachel stood between both men and looped one arm through each of theirs to whisper in their ears.

"Okay sweetie," Kurt pulled away and smoothed his shirt, "this has been lovely, but now we must be going. I've got a conference call in 20 minutes and Blaine has to get to work. You're covered for tonight, right? We don't want you sitting in this place all alone surrounded by boxes."

"Or," Blaine interrupted, "worse yet, trying to get all this unpacking done in one day all by yourself."

"I'm good." Rachel stepped back and started to lead the men to the door. "I'm going to my dads' for dinner tonight, so they'll keep me occupied."

"Okay, well, if you need anything, just call." Blaine kissed her once more on the cheek before the two men left her alone in her new house.

Rachel closed the door behind her friends and turned her back to it, slumping against it slightly. So far, she had been riding on an adrenaline high. First she was in New York, finishing up her run in "Funny Girl." Then she was helping her replacement transition into the role. And finally, she was packing up her apartment and sleeping in an old cast mate's guestroom for a week while all her belongings were shipped to Ohio. Through all of that, all she could think about was what a big move she was making and how excited she was about it. But now, now she was alone in a house full of boxes (except for three rooms she would hardly use anyway) and all she could think about was what a BIG move she had made and how terrified she was about it.

She spent over an hour trying to unpack, but it just wasn't working. Rachel had bounced from one room to another, too overwhelmed to really get anything done anywhere. Knowing she was seconds away from a tear-filled breakdown, Rachel snatched her purse from the hook by the door and flew across the front porch, letting the door slam behind her as she turned and headed up the sidewalk on foot.

~.~

Rachel leaned on the doorway and watched her friend working, oblivious to her presence. Smiling, she cleared her throat and took a small step into the classroom. "Hi, I was looking for my friend Mercedes. You know, you look kind of like her, but I can't be sure, since it's been over two years since the last time she visited me."

Mercedes's head flew up from the paperwork she was scribbling on. "Oh my – What are you doing here?" She jumped from the desk and ran to hug Rachel. "It's been six years and you haven't visited once. What brings you here now? Is everything okay with your dads? I just saw them at the grocery store last week." Mercedes's brow furrowed and she looked a little worried.

Rachel waved off her concern and moved to sit at a desk in the front row. Mercedes perched on the edge of her own desk and eyed the smaller girl in front of her. "What if I told you I'm not visiting?" Rachel watched Mercedes's eyes narrow at her and she smiled. "I moved. I bought Mrs. Carpenter's old house, right down the road."

"You did what?" Mercedes gripped the edge of her desk and leaned forward, her jaw slack.

Rachel bit her lip and nodded. "Just got in today." She broke into a smile when Mercedes smiled back at her.

"Wow! Well, this is … sudden." She moved around the desk to sit in her chair.

"Umm, no, it's not, actually." Rachel's hands fidgeted on the desk top as her friend stared back at her. "I bought the house two months ago. I made the decision to move almost a year ago. I've just been tying up loose ends. Kurt and Blaine took care of everything for me here in Lima. I truly couldn't have done it without them."

"Kurt knew! Oooh … I'm gonna have a talk with that boy. I can't believe -,"

"No! Don't be mad at him! I made them promise. I didn't want anyone to know." Rachel shrunk a little under Mercedes's scrutinizing gaze. "I didn't want to deal with … the publicity." It was obvious to her that Mercedes wanted to say something to that, so Rachel was grateful when she held her tongue.

"So, Mrs. Carpenter's huh?" Mercedes said instead. "Tell me about this house."

For the next 20 minutes, the women talked about Rachel's house and what she planned to do to it now that she was actually going to be living there. The visit was restoring Rachel's mood to what it had been before Kurt and Blaine left her that morning. "And how's the unpacking coming?"

Rachel half-laughed, half-scoffed at the question. "It's not. That's kind of why I'm here. I couldn't look at the boxes anymore. They were like, taunting me or something." Both women laughed.

"Promise me something," Rachel nodded. "You're not going to go home and lock yourself in until those boxes are all unpacked. You've got plenty of time; don't stress yourself about this." Rachel rolled her eyes but nodded. "So, not that I'm complaining or anything, but what brings you back to little ol' Lima?"

Rachel shrugged again and dropped her eyes. "After the Tonys last year-,"

"Congrats by the way."

"Thank you. After the Tonys last year, I just kind of felt like I had reached my peak. I accomplished my goals. I did what I went there to do, basically. And while Kurt and Blaine were with me that night, really, I was alone. I was 23 with everything I wanted for myself and no one to share it with." Rachel ignored the look on her friend's face. "So, since I had, in fact, done what I set out to do, I decided maybe it was time to come back home." She got quiet at the end, and didn't go back to that part about being alone.

"Well, I, for one, am very glad you made your dreams come true." The two women giggled. "Are you happy to be back?" Mercedes rested her elbow on her desk and dropped her chin into her hand.

"Yeah," Rachel sighed. "Terrified – I mean, I really have no idea what I'm going to do and how … _people_ are going to feel about me being back – but I'm happy."

"That's great, and-,"

"Hey Mercedes, Schuester wanted me to remind everyone to turn in your closing checklist before you leave for the day. He said even principals deserve a summer vacation, and he won't get his if we skip out without handling the 'bureaucratic b.s.'" The unfamiliar woman in the doorway laughed as she delivered Mr. Schuester's words, complete with air quotes.

It was only when the stranger showed up to remind Mercedes of the paperwork that she had to turn in that Rachel truly recognized the fact that she had just barged into a high school classroom on a Friday. She remembered that she hadn't seen anyone on her way in, and that it was very late May, thanking heaven that, apparently, school was out for the summer. The reality of what Mercedes did and where Rachel was going to see her was the farthest thing from her mind when Rachel flew out her front door and up the five short blocks to the school. She had no clue what she would have done if she had walked into a room full of antsy teenagers.

"Oh my gosh," the stranger continued, "I'm so sorry to interrupt; I didn't realize you had a visitor." The young woman walked toward Rachel, hand extended. "Hi, I'm Maddie."

Rachel stood from the desk she had been sitting in and took the woman's hand. "Hi Maddie. Rachel." She smiled at the warmth in Maddie's expression.

"I know," Maddie giggled. "You're Rachel Berry. You're kind of famous around here. Well," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at herself, "you're kind of famous in general, I guess."

"Rachel is one of my best friends," Mercedes chimed in, causing Maddie to swivel her head in the opposite direction, nodding at the same time. "And she just moved back into town, so I hope you get over this little star-struck bit pretty fast, 'cause you'll probably be seeing a lot of her."

Maddie's head flew back around to look at Rachel and she dropped her hand. "You moved back to Lima?" Rachel smiled and nodded. "Oh, well, that's … that's great." Maddie had regained her composure and was again smiling warmly at Rachel. "Okay, so, I guess I need to get my own stuff taken care of so I can get out of here and start my summer. Mercedes, I'll see you tomorrow?" She turned to look at her friend, who nodded. "And Rachel, it was really nice to meet you, and … and," suddenly Maddie was flying toward Rachel and before Rachel could react, Maddie's arms were around her neck, "I'm just really glad you came home. Really glad."

Mercedes and Rachel looked at one another over Maddie's shoulder, the other girl oblivious to the confused, wide-eyed glances the friends were sharing. Almost as suddenly as she had initiated the hug, Maddie pulled away from Rachel and smoothed her blouse and skirt before sending a sheepish grin to both women and walking out of the room.

"What …" Rachel started as soon as she believed Maddie was out of earshot. Mercedes only lifted her hands and shook her head. "Wow, um, okay. So I'll get out of your hair and let you finish working. I feel a lot better; I think I can probably get something done back at the house now. Thanks for the talk."

"Of course girl, any time. And remember, don't stress too much about those boxes. You don't have to get them all done in one day you know." Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled. "Goin' to your dads' tonight?" Rachel nodded. "What about tomorrow night, need some place to be? I'm having a little Memorial-Day-slash-end-of-the-school-year-barbecue at my house." Rachel looked ready to refuse, and, anticipating what she assumed her argument would be, Mercedes cut her off before she could speak. "It's just work people. I invited some of our old crew, but Finn and Chelsea both have to work and Kurt and Blaine have some _thing_ with Blaine's parents, so I just stopped asking people and decided to make it a McKinley thing. Only teachers," Mercedes stressed again, "but you're welcome to come. We already know Maddie likes you."

Rachel laughed, but shook her head again. She knew what Mercedes thought, but her refusal had nothing to do with the possibility of _him_ being at the barbecue. (She tried to ignore the nagging feeling that knowing for sure he wouldn't be there only made her more sure that she didn't want to be, either.) She decided that she had relied on everyone else far too much throughout this whole process; it was time to stand on her own two feet. That meant facing up to everything (everyone) that came along with her return home.

_**Home sweet home  
>Home sweet home<br>Home sweet home**_

So apparently, that whole 'standing on her own two feet' thing was going to have to wait at least one more day. When Rachel left McKinley after popping her head into Mr. Schuester's office to congratulate him on completing his first successful year as principal (because after Figgins, any year without a major catastrophic event or riot-inducing assembly was considered hugely successful), she took the long way back to her house to stop by the convenience store around the corner and pick up a couple things she needed at the house (she would be worthless in the morning without coffee, and yeah, toilet paper was a definite necessity) and a grape slushie, for old time's sake. By the time she got home and got at least as far as unpacking her toiletry bag and the 'towel box' into the upstairs bathroom, it was late afternoon and her daddy was calling to let her know that he was home from work and she could come over 'as soon as she was ready.' So, okay, she wanted to stand on her own two feet, she wanted to get her house in order, but this was her daddy. She hadn't seen her fathers in months and she knew that as soon as she opened the front door, she would be greeted with the smell of something wonderful being cooked especially for her (she just realized she was starving, she hadn't eaten since Kurt and Blaine stopped on the way home from the airport that morning). Independence could wait.

After dinner – nobody made vegan lasagna like Leroy Berry, not even Rachel herself – Rachel somehow managed to get talked into spending the night in her old room. ("_We haven't had our little girl in our house in almost six years. You owe us!_") She woke on Saturday morning to the smell of cinnamon spice coffee and bright yellow walls. (_Thank goodness I have Kurt now; he'd kill me before letting me paint any of the walls in my house a color like this._) She padded down the stairs in a pair of lavender puppy dog pajamas that hadn't seen the light of day since she was 16 and joined her dads at the table. She didn't even have time to ask for it before a steaming mug of caramel-colored coffee was placed before her and she felt a kiss on the back of her head.

"One soy milk and two sugars, just like my little princess likes it."

"Thanks daddy," Rachel almost purred into her mug.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Leroy asked, pushing a serving bowl of fresh cut fruit across the table to his daughter. "I don't want to be a bummer or anything, but you do remember that your dad and I have plans, right?" He watched, a bemused smile on his face, as his daughter nodded, picking through the bowl to find all the kiwi slices. "We have to leave in just a couple hours and we won't be back until Monday around lunchtime. I'm so sorry we won't be here for your first weekend back in town, but this whole Memorial Day thing up at the lake is really important with your dad's bosses. You can still come along if you want, our cabin sleeps eight, and I believe there are only six of us in it as of right now. Besides, who could complain about having you around?"

Rachel popped the last kiwi slice into her mouth then dropped a few grapes and banana slices onto a napkin before grabbing her mug and standing from the table. She knew where this was going. There was a reason that everyone who knew she was back in Lima – from Kurt and Blaine to Mercedes and even Mr. Shuester to her dads – was so wary of her being alone, and she didn't think it had anything to do with her not being able to take care of or even occupy herself. She had, after all, spent plenty of time alone in her apartment in New York, and no one seemed to have a problem with that. She didn't know why they all thought she had really come back (she had wondered at times, herself), but she needed to show them all (and again, _herself_) that she could handle whatever, or whomever, came her way.

Both hands full, she kissed first her dad and then her daddy on the temple before shaking her head. "No daddy, I'll be fine, really."

(_I have to face …__** things**__ … eventually.)_

" Mercedes invited me to a barbecue-,"

(_But I'm not going.) _

"-and besides, I really need get started on that whole unpacking thing."

(_I can't run into __**anyone**__ in my own house, right?)_

"Alright princess," her dad stood to clear the table, "well, in case we're occupied when you head out, have a great weekend."

"Oh, and Rachel," she stopped in the doorway and looked back at her daddy, "don't lock yourself up in that house trying to get everything unpacked in one day."

She huffed and stomped one foot. "Why does everyone keep saying that to me?"

Both men laughed. "Because we all know you, sweetheart. Just promise, okay?"

"Fine daddy, I promise." Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled once she turned to leave the room. It was nice having people who really did know her and who cared that much.

Rachel didn't want to lie to her parents (or Mercedes, Kurt, or Blaine, for that matter), but she really did want to at least make a dent in the cardboard mountain in her home. So, she showered and dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of yoga pants and an old McKinley High t-shirt she found in the dresser in her old room, the only clothes in that house she would still be caught dead wearing in public. She yelled a quick goodbye to her dads before slipping out the front door and into her car, which she had thankfully elected to ship to Lima a week before with everything else she owned.

Walking into the house, Rachel tried to ignore the chaos that was the living room to her right, keeping her eyes straight ahead and heading to the kitchen. It was chaos too, but it was the chaos that she chose to start with. After her bathroom, which was already finished (you can't overestimate the value of a hot shower, and how hard is it to set up a bathroom?), the kitchen was the next room that she wanted to be completed. To start with, the bistro-style table and chairs that had fit into her small kitchen in New York were the only pieces of furniture outside of the couch that didn't have to be assembled. (The bed was just going to have to wait until Kurt and Blaine or her dads could come help her.) Secondly, while even the bedroom could wait (it wouldn't kill her to sleep on the couch for a couple of nights), nothing could compare to being able to roll out of bed (_couch_) and go get a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast without even having to change out of her pajamas (in her _own _kitchen, this time).

Rachel had honestly expected the kitchen to be one of the easier, quicker rooms to set up. Really, it was just putting dishes in cabinets. She was wrong. Once she started unpacking dishes, Rachel realized that there was no way she would be comfortable putting them away without washing them first. That led to her washing every dish, piece of flatware, and pot, pan and baking dish she owned. Then, as she was putting them away, she changed her mind several times about where certain items should go, moving her plates and cups five times, her stovetop cooking pans three times, and her bakeware twice. By the time she collapsed onto the floor, leaning back against the island after hanging her last wine glass on the glass rack under its countertop (why hadn't she noticed _that_ earlier?), it was nearly seven o'clock. She found her phone under the neatly stacked broken down cardboard boxes on the table and called her favorite Chinese restaurant from high school.

As she finished her dinner and took out all the trash she had managed to accumulate over the course of the day, Rachel was tempted to move on to unpacking the living room and get as much done as she could without having someone there who could reconstruct her entertainment center and connect the surround sound system that her daddy insisted she had to have. (It really did enhance the viewing experience of her musicals.) But she remembered the promises she had made to her dads (and nearly everyone else, for that matter) and resolved to be finished for the night. The only problem was, there was no way she could be in that house without unpacking boxes. She was sure she could still show up at Mercedes's barbecue and be welcomed with open arms, but it just wasn't what she wanted to do. She remembered that martini bar that she had noticed on the way in the previous morning; Kurt said it was new and it reminded her of the places she would go with her girlfriends in New York (as much as anything in Lima could remind her of New York), but it also wasn't what she wanted to do. She tried not to over-think the fact that the only place she could think of that she really wanted to go to get her mind off of the very unlivable state of her home was a small bar on the outskirts of town with concrete floors, wooden furniture, and a playlist that consisted almost solely of country music; a place she had been snuck into once in high school because some up-and-coming band from Columbus was playing there (and they really were up-and-coming, winning a Best New Artist Grammy the next year – _he _always did have good taste in music).

Even while she was showering to wash off the sweat and grime acquired from unpacking, Rachel tried to convince herself that she was not going to go to that bar. And if she did end up there, it was only because she could really use a drink and a relaxing night to get her mind off of everything she still had to do. When she pulled on her simplest top – a v-neck t-shirt that hugged her body in all the right places – and a denim skirt, she thought that those clothes were relaxed and perfectly appropriate for the kind of place that she still tried to deny, if only in her own mind, that she was going to. When she picked up her keys and headed out to the car, she finally admitted to herself that she was, in fact, going to end up at the bar that she did _not _plan to go to. As she drove, she swore to herself, and a bit to the air around her, that she was not going there because it was _his_ bar. She didn't really know _why _she was going there, but it wasn't because of him. It couldn't be. At the same time, she knew she would have to see him eventually – Lima was a tiny town, after all – so if he just happened to be there, well, she was just getting it out of the way. (And well, she was a grown woman now, and it had been nearly six years since … _things _happened. If he just so happened to be there, she would conduct herself properly, the way an _old friend _should.) She parked the car then took a deep breath and checked her make-up in the visor mirror before sliding out and dropping her keys into her purse.

_**Ooh, I'm on my way, I'm on my way  
>Home sweet home, yeah<br>I'm on my way, just set me free  
>Home sweet home<strong>_

Rachel smoothed her denim skirt, unnecessarily, before opening the door of the bar.

**A/N: First of all, so sorry for the long delay (I thought the holiday break would allow me to get more writing done – so wrong) and thank you so much for everyone who has stuck with me. I have written 14 of these? Seriously? For those of you who may just have started reading this little collection, thanks to you too, and I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Secondly, in case maybe you couldn't tell (or in case you are just starting and haven't read all the other pieces in this collection), this story does go with 'You Look Good in My Shirt' and 'We Owned the Night.' It literally spans from Rachel's Tony night to the moment she walks into the bar where she and Puck get to start their second chance.**

**Again, thank you for sticking with me even though my updates can be inconsistent (one of the handful of reasons I have decided to stay away from multi-chapter pieces). Hopefully I will do better getting the next one out in a timely manner.**


	15. Walk the Line

'**Walk the Line' – Johnny Cash**

_**I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
>I keep my eyes wide open all the time<br>I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line <strong>_

"Rachel. _Rach_." Quinn hovered over her, calling out to her repeatedly and even shaking her gently before rolling her eyes and groaning. "Yo, Caroline!" Quinn resorted to the name that never failed to get Rachel's attention – the name that had been pouring out of her phone for the last two minutes, the name that woke Quinn from her own peaceful sleep – before she took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking down at a groggy Rachel Berry.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Rachel rolled onto her back and stretched both arms over her head before using her fists to rub at her eyes. "What is it Quinn?"

"You know, I get that your ringtone's like, _sentimental_, and all, but _I_ have no particular attachment to it, and I certainly don't enjoy being woken up by it playing repeatedly on _my _desk at midnight." Quinn actually laughed out loud a little when the fog visibly cleared from her roommate's eyes. She presented the phone in front of her body, holding it between her thumb and middle finger, and gave it a little shake. "Boy's on the phone." Quinn tossed the phone onto Rachel's bed before turning and taking the few steps necessary to fall face-first back into her own mattress.

Rachel scrambled to retrieve her phone from amidst her blankets and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" She tried to sound like she hadn't just woken up, as if he couldn't tell from having to call numerous times in a row, only to be greeted by the sounds of Quinn struggling to wake her. Either way, it had taken an hour of pleading and convincing to get to him to agree, to _promise_, to call her every night when the show was over because he didn't want to be responsible for her losing sleep and possibly suffering for it academically (her words, not his; his words were, _"Babe, I don't wanna keep ya up every night. You got class and shit."_). He reminded her that he would be calling her every day for their standing lunch date, but she had insisted that she wanted to hear about every show immediately, before he had the time to forget a single detail or, worse yet, how it felt being out there. She didn't want to blow it on the first night by appearing too tired to talk to him.

"Hey baby."

Rachel could hear the smile in his voice and it made her stomach flutter. Even if she had always assumed that she would be the one out of all of their friends (or at least the first one) to become a household name – and okay, maybe Broadway actresses weren't exactly _household_ names, but having her name in lights and on billboards and the sides of buses would at least make her name recognizable to the approximately 1.5 million residents of Manhattan – she would never, ever think of begrudging Noah the fact that his name was the one that was getting out there first. She was happy for him, thrilled really, and the one thing making the entire experience better (for both of them) was the fact that they were going through it together. If anything, it only reconfirmed what she already knew, which was that Noah was the only man she wanted at her side when she got her own turn in the spotlight.

No one, least of all Noah Puckerman, thought that following Rachel Berry to New York (and yeah, after a year and a half, he would finally admit that's what he had done) and enrolling in Borough of Manhattan Community College would result in him being on a national tour with (_okay, opening for, same difference_) one of the hottest rock acts of the moment only eighteen short months later. But shortly after getting into the city, Puck realized that, while the idea of 'shacking up' with Rachel seemed nice in theory, the actuality of both of them squeezing onto her NYU-issued twin bed with Quinn sleeping in the top bunk was much less glamorous. So, he found a tiny studio apartment just off-campus and got two jobs – one working third shift unloading trucks at a warehouse and another working between classes as a studio guitarist at a grungy studio around the corner whose usual clientele consisted of high school kids looking for their 'big break' and middle aged men looking for their second chance. He didn't mind the work – he had never been one to shy away from hard work – but he hated that between the two jobs and his classes he spent like, three hours a week or some shit with his girl. He considered lowering his course load, or even dropping it altogether (because he couldn't afford to eat if he quit one of his jobs), but she wouldn't have it. She promised him that one day it would all be worth it, but until then she wouldn't have him giving up. She said that a few years of it now would be much better than dooming himself to a lifetime of it in the future. Hard to argue with that logic.

And one day, out of nowhere, this little indie-rock group that Puck had actually seen, and enjoyed, at a party that he and Rachel had been at came in all frantic. They were supposed to be making a demo for an interested executive from some tiny label, and their guitarist had just bailed on them. Puck grabbed the sheet music they offered and stepped in without missing a beat. He had meshed so well with them musically, and they just liked him so much personally, that they invited –almost begged – him to stand in at a gig they had thought they were going to have to cancel for the next night. That one gig had turned into three-times-a-week practices and at least twice-a-week shows, resulting in him making enough money between the band's fees and the tips they always got to quit his shady studio job. He spent the next two weeks napping in Rachel's bed between classes just because he could.

Then one day the next winter, Puck burst into Quinn and Rachel's second dorm room (slightly larger than the last but still much too small for him to crash in regularly) screaming at the top of his lungs and with a huge grin on his face. His band (because that's what they were to him, now) had been offered to open for an actual rock band on an actual tour. He had sworn to Rachel that he wouldn't go if she wasn't comfortable with it – he wasn't lying to her when he told her that he was honestly more excited about the offer than anything else – but she had looked at him like he had three heads and told him there was no way he was not going on that tour.

"Hi back, Noah." Rachel let her head sink back into the pillow and gathered the blankets around her. "So?" The question dripped with curiosity, with expectation.

"So what?" He was teasing her.

"So what! Noah Elijah Puckerman, you just played your first show on a real stage, on an honest-to-God rock and roll tour. That's so exciting, Noah! I mean … you're in Cleveland!" Rachel covered her mouth with her hand and reminded herself to keep her voice down when a stuffed lamb flew at her from across the room.

Puck snorted into the phone. "Did you just hear yourself, baby? 'S Cleveland. I'm like, three hours from fuckin' Lima right now. How exciting can that be?"

"Noah! How can you say such a thing?" Rachel was speaking into the phone in her loudest whisper, hopefully just loud enough for Noah to hear and understand her, but just quiet enough to escape Quinn's wrath the next day. "Of course it's exciting. I mean, Cleveland's the home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and … and … Oh! The Black Keys are from around there." She knew he couldn't see her, but that didn't stop her from smiling smugly into the phone.

"How do you even know this stuff, babe?" Puck chuckled on his end.

"They're Grammy winners, and it's important for me to be well-versed in all types of important music."

Puck laughed again. "You're right babe, shoulda known." He cleared his throat and softened his voice considerably before speaking again. "So little girl, how are you?" It was no secret that he was more than a little anxious about leaving her in New York.

Rachel smiled at the tenderness in his voice. She knew that he was concerned about her, but really, she was fine. She didn't want his experience to be hindered by his worry for her. "I'm fine Noah. I mean, I miss you like crazy, of course, but I'm fine. Besides, I've got Quinn here to take care of me." She giggled when she heard a muffled 'damn right' from across the room.

"Ya sure about that?" Puck's voice was gruff again. "I mean, I heard the way she was talkin' to you earlier, and if she's gonna go back to bein' all Queen Bitch Quinn again -,"

"Noah, it's after midnight, I had two dance classes today so I was sleeping like a dead person, and you called …" Rachel pulled her phone away from her ear to scroll through the call history, "five times in a row -,"

"You made me promise," he grumbled quietly.

"- I think she had had the right to be a little annoyed."

Puck was still wary of Rachel and Quinn's relationship, even after a year and a half of the girls living together. He knew from plenty of experience that while Quinn could be sweet and kind and even compassionate, she could also be conniving and manipulative and just downright mean, and her moods could flip like a switch. He hadn't completely let go of the reluctance he had initially felt when Rachel told him that she planned to room with Quinn at NYU. (_"No, babe. Just – no. I mean, she's __**Quinn**__. Don't you know what that means?" "What I know, Noah, is that my little ballot box stuffing stunt did indeed keep me from NYADA as I had feared, and that while being a pregnant 15-year-old cheerleading captain makes a moving college entrance essay, it's not quite enough for the Yale admissions department. I also know that when given the choice between sharing an 8x10 box with a 'kinda friend' or a complete stranger, well, I'm going with Quinn.")_ So far there had only been the minor, expected squabbles, but Puck hadn't quite let his guard down all the way, even if Rachel was an open book to the other girl, even going so far as to call Quinn her 'best friend' on occasion.

"So now, tell me all about your night."

_**I find it very, very easy to be true  
>I find myself alone when each day is through<br>Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line <strong>_

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah! How was your show tonight? Was it wonderful? Are you and your bandmates still getting along well? You know, being cooped up like that all together can cause disturbances in even the most stable relationships, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if you've been having little quarrels simply because of the close proximity. Don't worry though, I know how good you guys are together, it will pass, I'm sure." Rachel stopped for just a second to catch her breath. "Noah," She almost whined into the phone as she dropped onto her bed, propping her back against the wall and pulling the blankets over her legs, "come on, tell me about the show."

Puck laughed, knowing it would do no good to point out to her that she hadn't actually given him a chance to tell her anything yet. "Well, somebody's chipper tonight."

"Oh, yes," Rachel smiled, fingering her comforter between her thumb and forefinger, "well, I was finishing up that English paper that's due later this week, so once 10 rolled around and I was still working, I decided that I'd just make some coffee. That way, I could finish my paper _and_ actually be awake when you called for once."

"Baby," Puck chuckled, "there was so much wrong with that sentence. First, you're only sposed to work all night on stuff that's like, due tomorrow. Second, babe, you're kinda scary when you drink coffee in the mornings, you _really_ shouldn't be drinkin' it at night. Finally, Rach, I don't have to –,"

"So," she cut him off, refusing to let him tell her he could stop calling her after his shows, as he did at least once every couple days. "Where are you tonight? Still in Tennessee?"

"Mmhmm. Memphis. Who's fr-,"

"B.B. King, and well, blues in general, but he is definitely one of the most notable."

"Didn't even let me finish my question!" Puck tried to sound offended, but he knew she could hear the amusement in his voice. He had come to love this little game that they played. Outside of simply getting to hear her voice, it was probably his favorite part of their usually short, often disjointed middle-of-the-night conversations. Even on the nights when she was completely wiped, she managed to stay on the phone and coherent long enough to name at least one significant musician who was from wherever it was he had performed that night. (He had thought that she would be stumped when he got down into the southeast, but his girl knew her country and southern rock. Who'da guessed?)

"Well come on Noah, last night Nashville and now Memphis; Tennessee is just too easy. Oh!" She sat up a little straighter on the bed and put a finger in the air, not caring that he couldn't see her through the phone. "Just remember Noah, the game isn't just people who are _from _your city, but those who got their starts there. That is often much more influential. Just think about me – when I'm famous and hugely successful, I'll be _Broadway_ _Star _Rachel Berry, not _Lima, Ohio_ Rachel Berry."

"You're right baby. Didn't mean to insult your intelligence. Or your New York-ness." He smirked as he fell onto the tour bus couch.

"It's very quiet there Noah. Is everything okay?" Rachel furrowed her brow at the thought that something might not be just right. She knew that Noah worried about her being 'alone' in New York (because no matter how many times she told him that she had Quinn right there whenever she needed her, it didn't seem to make a difference), but she worried about him too. She worried about him travelling all over the country without what she considered to be a truly strong support network. Sure, she had no problem with his band mates – she liked them, really – but they reminded her of the people Noah had hung out with during his early high school years. It wasn't that she didn't trust him with them, she absolutely did, but she worried about what would happen the first time Noah had a bad day or he and Rachel got into an argument and the only people he had around him were those guys. She also worried about what would happen the first time he and his band mates got into an argument over something more significant than who drank the last beer or whether or not the set list needed to be rearranged and she or one of their closer friends wasn't there to help him work through it.

"Yeah, everything's great. We don't got Little Rock till Friday, so since we got a day off the guys decided to spend the night here and head out tomorrow. Beale Street was a'callin'."

"Oh." Rachel chewed her bottom lip for a second, confused. "Then … well, I still don't understand why it's so quiet. I mean, from what I understand, Beale Street is _never_ quiet, but least so at this time of night."

"Silly girl." Rachel could see the way he smirked, his eyes closed and his head shaking before it dropped back onto the back of … well, whatever it was he was sitting on. She loved, and kind of hated, that she could see his every move even though he was 1100 miles away. "It's quiet 'cause I didn't go."

Puck waited while Rachel stayed quiet for a beat. "I'm on the bus." He clarified.

"Oh. Why … why didn't you go out with your friends?"

He could hear the confusion, and a little bit of worry, tingeing her voice. He hated that worry. "Just didn't feel like it," he shrugged. He waited again, but still she said nothing. He should've known it wouldn't be that easy. "Ok baby, I'm gonna explain this to you, but you gotta promise to stay quiet and listen 'till I'm all the way done, 'cause you're probably gonna get the wrong idea but you gotta hear me out. Okay?"

"Umm … yeah, no, of course. Of course I'll hear you out Noah." Rachel glanced across the room to where Quinn sat on her bed with her laptop balanced on her thighs and earbuds in her ears.

"Rachel, I love you. Like, seriously. You couldn't _pay_ me to fu-screw this thing up."

"I'm not hearing what there is for me to get upset about here, Noah." Rachel giggled a little into the phone.

"Babe," his voice was soft, but strained. Kind of a … tender growl. A warning.

"Right," she replied sheepishly, "sorry."

"Anyway, there's no way I'd mess up what we have. I may be kinda dumb, but I'm not stupid." He heard her start to say something, but she caught herself before any actual words came out. "But Rach, the thing is, I know we're not 'rock stars,' by any means. But we're travelin' with 'em, and actin' like 'em, and since we're just the openin' act, we're like, more approachable, or whatever than the _real_ rock stars, so in a lotta ways, to the fans, especially the drunk ones, we're even better." Puck stopped for a minute to take a deep breath, knowing that the next part was where he would have to be careful. "And the girls, well, they're kinda everywhere. And girls who show up to our shows, and 'specially the ones that show up at the bars and shit afterward, they usually got one goal in mind – baggin' a rock star. Doesn't matter that we're just, like, the little brothers taggin' along on big brothers' good time, or whatever."

Puck paused again to take a sip of the beer he had opened when he first got back onto the bus. He could legit hear her breathing, hard, and not in the good way. Not a good sign. _Tread lightly here, Puckerman._ "Now baby," he made his voice as soft as possible, trying to remind her that she was dealing with Noah here and not Puck. He was _always _Noah when it came to her now. Sure, Puck made an appearance now and then when it came to stupid guy stuff, or Quinn, but seriously, he so much as heard Rachel's name and Puck tucked tail and ran, leaving only Noah behind. "I already told ya, I ain't doin' anything to mess with us. We're epic. We're _endgame_, baby. But me bein' in that atmosphere – all those girls, drunk and half-naked – it ain't good."

"Right." Her voice was very quiet, but he still heard it. "Because you're afraid if you expose yourself to the temptation …"

Rachel's voice trailed off as she thought about what Noah was saying. She supposed that she should be happy that he was keeping himself out of those situations, but she couldn't help but wish that he could be in those situations without actually _being_ tempted. Quinn still had her earbuds in, and Rachel was being careful to keep her voice low, so she was sure her friend hadn't heard her. But Quinn must have noticed that something was up, because while she was still listening to her computer and typing on it half-heartedly, her eyes were fixed on her roommate.

"Rachel." This time Puck didn't bother softening his voice, and it was unmistakably a growl. "First of all, you promised. I get to talk now." He got quiet and heard her hum her agreement, and possibly an apology. "Second, I didn't say that. Although, really, I guess you're right, but not in the way you think. I worked too damn hard to get you. Fuckin' Bar Refaeli could be in one of those bars and it wouldn't make a difference to me." He knew his language was slipping out of 'Noah' territory and more into the 'Puck' realm, but he didn't have the time or energy to think about that at the moment. "I ain't been _tempted_ to lay a pinkie finger on another girl since I started gettin' to put my hands on you. Even when it was just your hands and face and shit you gave me access to." He had to stop himself for a few seconds there, because, in spite of himself, he started thinking about getting his hands on his girl, and, well, he had to breathe through that for a little bit. He could've sworn he heard her whimper a little, which made him think she was probably thinking about the same thing, and that just made it even worse.

"But yeah Rach," he continued once he had regained his composure, "I guess you could say I don't wanna be tempted. 'Cause some 'a those bitches just don't get 'no.'" Yeah, his mouth was full-on 'Puck' now, but the message was all 'Noah,' so that had to count for something, right? "And I'm afraid if I was out there, some girl'd come up, and just start talkin' and not listenin', and then I'd do somethin' I'd regret. Somethin' that would get me kicked outta the bar, or the band, or hell, arrested, even. And if that happened, I'dve ended up fuckin' up what we got goin' here even when all I was tryin' to do in the first place was avoid that. Ain't worth it baby. I got all the beer and all the girl I need on this bus, so this is where I'll stay." He waited for almost a full minute, but she didn't say anything. "Alright baby, I'm done now. You can talk."

Rachel cleared her throat before she said anything. "Right. I … I … I love you too, Noah." And that was enough for him._****_

_**As sure as night is dark and day is light  
>I keep you on my mind both day and night<br>And happiness I've known proves that it's right  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line <strong>_

"Hey baby."

"Mmm, Noah." Rachel's response was groggy as she rubbed at the now-tender spot on her forehead. She was _really _going to have to stop leaving her phone on Quinn's side of the room when she went to sleep.

Puck could tell she was half-asleep still, possibly more, so while it may not have been one of his shining moments, he jumped at his opportunity. "New Orleans," he spat as soon as his name was all the way out of her mouth. He loved this game they played, and Rachel was surprisingly good at it. Like, he expected her to be good (well, as soon as he figured out it was going to be a regular thing anyway, neither of them had exactly planned this out), but he also expected her to have been stumped at least once over the past several weeks, and so far, she'd had an answer for every night, every city. But after that little stunt she had pulled in Shreveport a few nights back, he didn't feel even a little bad about throwing the question at her before she was fully awake. See, he'd been impressed a few times back in Kentucky and West Virginia and the Carolinas, but Shreveport, yeah that was just too much. Rachel and Quinn had been at Kurt's when he called, watching some marathon of some show only his friends could love, and when he told her where he was, she hesitated for a few seconds, and he thought he had her, but then she spouted off with not only Trace Adkins and that guy even _he _had to look up to know was from Brooks & Dunn (_What the hell kind of name is __**Kix**__?_), but then half a second later with Terry Bradshaw, and when the hell did football players come into this? She cheated. He _knows _she cheated, because he knows Evans was there, and right before she nearly blew his mind by throwing the former Steeler at him, he heard Quinn's giggling and Rachel's shushing and a male voice he didn't recognize that had to be Q's new guy Alex.

"Louis Armstrong." Her voice was slurred and sleep-addled, but her response was instant. "Or Wynton Marsalis, if we're trying to be more modern."

"Dammit, baby. You're not even really awake!"

"Come on Noah," her voice was starting to clear and he could hear the blankets rustling, "it's New Orleans. Surely you didn't think you could get me on that one, asleep or not."

Okay, so maybe he had hoped to. Whatever.

"So why did the Ice Quinn answer the phone?" Best not to dwell, she would just get on some big rampage about how he should know better than to try and trick her and blah blah blah. A subject change was really for the best.

"Well, I'm still recovering from staying up way too late and spending the night at Kurt's two nights ago, and yesterday was mine and Quinn's really long, weekly theater class, then today was ballet and tap, and -,"

"No babe, I know your schedule, I kinda expected _Quinn _to answer when you didn't pick up the first time I called. But why did 'Ice Quinn – Bitch Extraordinaire' answer the phone? Hadn't had the extreme displeasure of hearing from her in a long time."

"Oh Noah, was she rude to you? I'm sorry, but if it's any consolation, at least _you _won't be going to your show tomorrow night with a knot on your forehead most likely bearing an imprint reading 'Otter Box.'"

"What the fuck, baby!" And that shit right there was numero uno why he hadn't wanted Rachel rooming with Quinn. Over a year and a half of them living together and being roomies or bffs or besties or whatever stupid girlie term they chose to use on a given day, and in one night Quinn manages to give him a bitching to rival her pregnancy days _and _brand Rachel with a cell phone. Not okay. "Put Fabray on the phone. Now."

Rachel glanced across the room at her roommate. Quinn sat on her bed, her laptop on her thighs illuminating her face and playing what sounded like … Metallica? Really? And she shouldn't be able to tell that at all, except even with the earbuds in her ears, Quinn had the volume turned up so loudly that Rachel could make out heavy bass and screeching guitar riffs and even and occasional word or two. "No Noah, like I said, I'm sorry she was rude to you, but it's okay, really. She's had a … a rough day." Rachel held the phone to her ear with one hand and played with the ear of the stuffed rabbit that resided on her bed with the other as she spoke quietly to her boyfriend 1,300 miles away and stared at her best friend not even 13 feet away.

Puck snorted; whatever Rachel's idea of a 'rough day' was, it wasn't an excuse for Quinn to treat him or his girl that way. "Oh yeah, and what's a rough day for Princess Quinn Fabray? A guy not fallin' all over himself to like, do her bidding or whatever?"

"Well, yes, I suppose you could say it was guy problems."

"Yeah, well, she still doesn't get to treat you like shit. Seriously, her and Alex only been together, what, a couple weeks? How bad could it even be?" Puck took a long draw from the beer he had just pulled from the bus's small fridge and fell onto the couch, propping his shoulders on one arm and his feet on the other. The way this conversation was going, he was glad the guys decided to go out to party. If Beale Street had kept them busy until three am, they wouldn't make their way in from Bourbon Street until daylight, easy.

"It's not Alex." Rachel's eyes never left Quinn. She knew there was no way Quinn could hear her, and she wasn't paying any attention to her anyway, but she felt anxious, and her nerves wouldn't let her take her eyes off her friend.

"But you said it was about a guy, and far as I know Alex is the only guy she's seein'," he paused to think. "Alex _is_ the only guy she's seein', right?"

"Of course Noah," Rachel sounded almost indignant at the suggestion, "but you know, not all problems with guys have to be romantic." She waited, but he didn't respond. "Think about it, just because you are my only boyfriend doesn't mean you are the only man in my life."

"Fine." He stopped to think for a second about the other men in Rachel's life (and to grind his teeth a little at the way that sounded in his head) and then to translate that to Quinn's life. "Okay, well, _I _sure as shit didn't do anything to her, and I know all this bitchiness isn't about Kurt. So what, is she having problems with her -," Puck froze for a second with the beer bottle halfway to his lips, then lowered it to the floor in front of the couch and let his head fall back onto the arm. "Oh."

"Yeah. He was just, here, this morning, waiting outside our building with coffee and bagels like it was just a normal father-daughter visit."

"What the hell did he want?" Puck was still pissed that Quinn was taking this stuff out on him and Rachel, but he couldn't help but be concerned too. Add that to the list of ways Rachel like, made him a better person or what-the-fuck-ever.

"I don't know, really. I guess he left that _woman_ he'd been with, and he tried to get Judy to talk to him but she slammed the door in his face and wouldn't return his calls." Rachel laughed humorlessly into the phone. "Apparently he was deluded enough to think that Quinn would help him get her to listen. He asked -," she lowered her voice when she saw Quinn shifting on her bed, "he asked about -," Rachel froze for a second, her heart in her throat, when Quinn yanked the plug of the earbuds out of the computer, but she only moved her laptop to the floor and plugged the earbuds into her iPod before wiggling under the covers and turning her back to Rachel. "He asked about Beth."

Puck bristled at the sound of his biological daughter's name. He and Quinn had given up the right to be her parents when she was born, knowing it was the right thing to do, but Russell Fabray had given up any rights he'd had long before that – right about the time he kicked his pregnant 15-year-old daughter out of his house. "What'd she say?" He was really trying not to let his anger come through in his voice, this had absolutely nothing to do with Rachel, but his teeth were clenched and he knew his voice was harsher than he intended it to be.

"Well, she told him to – and I take full blame for this for causing her to spend so much time around you the past couple years – fuck off."

Puck may have spit beer all over himself. And the couch. And a little bit on the floor. "Baby, I," he laughed, "I'm proud of Q and all, and I'll even forgive her for bein' a bitch to me on the phone earlier – even though she's still not off the hook for beanin' you with your own cell phone – but, you know you just said 'fuck,' right? I mean, the only other time I ever heard you say that was when I -,"

"Noah!" Rachel hissed, her eyes darting to Quinn's bed even though she knew her roommate was asleep, or at the very least deaf to the world thanks to her iPod and Adele (because apparently she had moved on from the angry music to the sad stuff). "These are not appropriate circumstances for a conversation like this."

"You're right babe. We'll save that one for when I come home. Or at least the next time I can pull out my laptop and log in to Skype. Ya know, maybe you can show me -,"

"NOAH!" Okay, that wasn't even a hiss; it was something different, something in a league of its own.

Puck couldn't say anything for a minute, partly because he could just picture the 10 different shades of red covering his girlfriend's face at that moment and it had him nearly doubled over in laughter, but also because his comments, while intended to get her worked up, had him picturing something else as well. And that 'something else' had him plenty worked up too, in a totally different way. "I was thinkin' about you today," he breathed out once he could finally speak again.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think about you every day, pretty much all the time, but I thought about you, like, _extra_ today. We were on the way to the stadium to do sound checks and we passed a theater – Jackson somethin'-or-other. And all I could think was, 'Rach would hate that place.'" He laughed quietly into the phone, remembering the theater. "'Cause I kept thinkin' about how you always say that any place that is a home to the arts should look like a work of art itself, and this place was just a big concrete building with way too many windows. Looked like a convention center or something."

"Oh." It didn't make sense, but Puck could actually _hear_ her frown, and he could just see her nose all scrunched up the way it did every time she watched him take the first bite out of a particularly greasy cheeseburger. "That does sound awful."

"Yeah, but then we got to the corner, and there was one of those big-ass posters on the side of a bus stop, and it was for 'West Side Story,' and Maria looked all wrong 'cause you could tell by her eyebrows that she was naturally a blonde and the picture was of her and Tony but there wasn't any, like, chemistry even in the picture, and -," he could hear her laughing; he didn't think she was even trying to hide it, "- Oh shut up. I spend way too much time with you and Fabray. When I come home I gotta get some guy friends," he grumbled before cutting her off again just as she started to speak. "And no, Kurt doesn't count. Blaine, sometimes, Kurt, never. Anyway, if I can talk for two minutes without bein' interrupted by my squirrelly little girlfriend," he waited for the giggles to stop. "That Maria on the poster totally sucked, but it made me think of you in that blue dress singin' with Warbler and you were so freakin' amazing, and then I thought of you in that pink dress singin' with Satan. God I loved you in that pink dress – you just looked so girlie and soft and just _pretty_."

Rachel let her free hand come up to rest over her heart. She kind of wanted to cry, but in the good way. Noah had no real reason to remember anything about her in that play – they weren't even together at the time – but he did, and that kind of made her love him even more. "Noah, I can't believe you remember that."

Puck only shrugged. "I remember a lotta things, Rach. Makes me happy."

_**You've got a way to keep me on your side  
>You give me cause for love that I can't hide<br>For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line <strong>_

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah."

Puck didn't like the way Rachel's voice sounded. It was so quiet, and not like the normal kind of I-just-woke-up quiet, or the Quinn's-asleep-on-the-other-side-of-the-room-and-I'm-still-running-for-roommate-of-the-year quiet. This was a sad kind of quiet, a quiet he hadn't heard in a really long time, maybe since the previous summer when she and Kurt had that huge fight and he un-invited her to his and Blaine's apartment-warming party (screw that, Puck was still invited, and he _made_ her get dressed and dragged her to the party, where he and Blaine then locked them in the bedroom until they made up, a grand total of three minutes and 3,000 'I'm sorry' tears later).

"I'm in Austin …" he knew that the sentence sounded almost like a question, and he had no idea if it would work or not, but at the moment, their game was the only thing he could think of to bring his normal Rachel out.

"Right. Umm," okay, that wasn't the best start. And it had already taken her longer to answer than it had in any of the other cities. "Wow, harder than I expected. Okay, country superstar George Strait is from that general area. And the rock band ZZ Top is from Houston, which isn't Austin, obviously, but it's not far. And then, the city is known as the 'live music capital of the world,' so while that doesn't exactly count toward this little game that I've started, it's certainly a positive as far as you and the band and your career are concerned." Rachel took a beat before saying anything else. "Okay, Noah, you win, I suppose. You've finally stumped me."

Puck climbed onto the tour bus and dropped into the swivel recliner right in front of the sleeping compartments. He sighed as he propped his elbows on his knees and let his forehead fall into his free hand. "Ya know babe," he scrubbed his hand over his face before letting his chin rest in his palm, "why don't we call this one a draw."

"Oh. Well. If that's what you want then sure."

"Jesus, baby," he didn't mean to growl at her, really, but this was getting ridiculous. He pushed his upper body back into the chair so that the back reclined and his feet were pushed off the floor by the footrest. "What's up with you tonight? Is Quinn bein' a bitch again, or did Kurt do somethin'? I know you two were sposed to have dinner tonight."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah." So far, Rachel hadn't moved from the position she was in when she answered the phone. But finally, she pushed herself up off her back and into a sitting position, clutching Mr. Floppy-Ears in her lap. She could feel Quinn's eyes on her from across the room, but she ignored her friend.

"C'mon Rach. Don't do this, okay. I know you better than anybody, and _this_ is not my Rachel. So please tell me what's bothering you, 'cause I know it's somethin'." Puck clutched the phone to his ear with one hand while the other nervously drew random patterns over the arm of the chair.

"I just – it's …," Rachel hesitated, glancing over at Quinn before finally sighing sadly. "Six weeks is a long time, Noah, that's all."

Puck's breath left him in a _whoosh_. "That's it baby? That's what this is?" He didn't mean to make it sound like that was nothing, because _fuck_ he missed her too. But while she told him every day (usually twice, once each time they talked) that she missed him, Rachel was always still _Rachel_: cheerful and up-beat and just so damn optimistic. This girl on the other end of the phone tonight was half Rachel, at best.

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, Noah. I know I'm being silly." Rachel heard a grunt from the other side of the room and turned her head just in time to see Quinn's eyes returning from the ceiling to their natural position as she shook her head. It may have been too dark in the room to actually read her lips, but Rachel could read Quinn's expression nonetheless, and she was sure that both were saying, _'Stop apologizing.'_

"No baby, you're not. Well, yeah, I mean, ya are silly a lot of the time, but not about this. I miss you too Rach, so fuckin' much." Puck stopped talking for a second when the bus door opened and his drummer walked in, but he just nodded once at his band mate and the other man smiled and nodded back in understanding before backing back down the steps. "But, ya just – ya gotta tell me this stuff, ya know? I mean, not that that's not a good enough reason to be sad, I get it Rach, I really do, but ya scared me a little bit. Like, I thought somethin' _happened_. Ya oughta know by now you can't shut me out, so don't even try, k?"

"Right Noah, I'm sorry. I've just had a hard day."

"Well, ya got my ear now, so let's hear it."

"I hate to -,"

"Rachel."

"Right, ok. Well, I did have dinner with Kurt. Kurt _and _Blaine, and Quinn _and_ Alex, to be exact. And it was a lovely dinner, really it was, and you _know_ how much I love Blaine, and Alex is quite possibly the perfect guy for Quinn. And I'm happy for my friends, of course. It's just that every time Blaine said something somewhat inappropriate but funny and Kurt grabbed his hand, or every time Quinn mentioned some recent accomplishment – like her 'A' on her English final – and Alex reached over to twirl her hair between his fingers, all I could see was us, and then all I could think was that that hasn't been us for six weeks and it won't be us for another four weeks." Rachel could hear Puck's long, low sigh. "Please Noah, you have to understand, I am so so happy for you. And I'm so proud of you I can't even stand it. All the rest of those guys can't stand it either," she laughed lightly, the sound music to Puck's ears (and yeah, he knows what a cliché that is, but whatever – they're all about music). "You may not have been here, but I gave them a run for their coupley-money all on my own."

Puck laughed. He didn't doubt that.

"Anyway, enough of that Noah." Rachel was trying really hard to get past her mood, her sadness. It wasn't fair to him for her to be that way. "As always, I want to hear about you. How was the show?"

He could tell that she was trying, for him, but he didn't want her to have to try. He just wanted his girl to be happy again. "Check your e-mail babe." He knew she hadn't gotten it yet. For one thing, _if_ she had even waited for him to call her, she would have deafened him as soon as she answered the phone. For another, he had only sent the e-mail minutes before calling. He wanted it to be a surprise.

"Noah," she whined, "I want to hear about your tour!"

"I know babe. Just check your e-mail. And don't tell me you already shut down your computer or whatever, I know you're never more than 12 inches from that iTouch of yours, and your dorm's got like, the best WiFi ever." He heard her huff, but he also heard the rustle of blankets and the sound of her nightstand drawer sliding open, so he just waited.

"What is this Noah?" Rachel just looked at the e-mail in confusion. There was no message, only a link to a YouTube video. Surely he didn't think this was the time for one of his and Sam's stupid videos of idiot guys getting hit in the crotch with random things.

"Just watch it, babe."

Rachel clicked the link and was redirected to a video titled 'our boy singin' for his girl.' "Oh my gosh, Noah, is that you?" She squinted at the small screen; the man on the middle of the stage was unmistakably her boyfriend. Even if the mohawk hadn't given him away, his stance – relaxed yet confident, with his hands resting lightly on the body of his guitar and his shoulders drawn down and forward just slightly (and it really wasn't necessary to go into the way his jeans just kind of hung on his hips like they were made for him) – was more than enough to tell her that was absolutely Noah Puckerman.

"Yeah," Puck scrubbed a hand over his Mohawk and his face burned. He'd spent the last six weeks playing on stage in front of thousands, but with Rachel it was different somehow. She was his biggest fan, not just with his music but in every aspect of his life, and it kind of freaked him out. He was a little terrified of letting her down.

She still hadn't clicked 'play.' "I didn't know you'd been singing, Noah." She frowned a little.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a normal thing. We had a little crisis in Jackson -,"

"Jackson? That was over a week ago." Now she frowned a lot. She asked him about his show every night, and he'd never mentioned singing.

"Yeah, I – I wanted to surprise you. Hunter shot the video, and I couldn't get his lazy ass to upload it 'till today." His voice dropped a little. "Sorry baby."

Oh. So maybe that wasn't so bad. And when her badass boyfriend played sheepish, well, then she was just kind of screwed.

"Anyway, we had a little crisis -,"

"Crisis?"

"Yeah, umm, one of the main band's guys started in with the partying a little early, and well, they lost him. So they just sent me out there with a mic and my guitar like there was supposed to be two openers all along so I could buy 'em some extra time. Anyway, will you please just watch the video, Rach?"

"Right."

"_Hey everybody. How's it goin?" The cheers seemed louder somehow when he was up there alone. "Awesome. Anyway," he started plucking out the intro to the song, "my name's Noah Puckerman. Don't worry; I don't expect you to know who I am." He chuckled at the laughs floating up to him. It was kind of nice being back on stage just him, a microphone, and a guitar. "I know what you're thinkin' – 'Johnny Cash is awesome, but doesn't this idiot know he's in Jackson?'" There were the laughs again. "But see, 'Jackson' needs a girl to really work, and I don't got one. Well," he chuckled, "that's not true. I got a girl, I got the __**best**__ girl." There were a lot of cheers at that, and a few less-than-happy female faces in the front row. "She's just not here. She's got her own kind of awesome goin' on back home, so I couldn't ask her to drop all that to run around and play rock star with me." He was starting on the intro for the third time, but other than those sorority girls up front, no one seemed to mind. "Anyway, since I can't sing 'Jackson' without the girl, but we've all agreed that the Man in Black is the shit, it's real convenient that he's got another song that's perfect when I'm on the road and my girl's 1,000 miles away." When he finished his fourth run through the intro, he finally launched into the first verse._

Rachel watched through silent tears, Quinn watching her every second, as Puck sang Johnny Cash's 'Walk the Line,' from beginning to end. She was pretty sure he had no idea his band mate was recording him from offstage, but that just made it that much better. "Noah, you're – that was – I don't even know what to say."

"Did it make you happy?"

"You have no idea," Rachel wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

"Then you don't need to say anything. That's all I was looking for."

The couple talked for another 20 minutes, Rachel finally getting Puck to tell her about that night's show, before she started to get quiet again and started stifling yawns. "Alright baby, I think it's your bedtime now. You feelin' better?"

"Yes, yes of course." Rachel hoped he didn't hear the way her voice cracked a little. "And your song, your video, they're lovely. Thank you for that. I love you." Her voice was almost a whisper by the end.

"Love you too, baby. G'night." Puck hung up before either of them could say anything else, knowing it would only go downhill from there.

Quinn had been watching Rachel for the past several minutes, knowing the conversation would be drawing to a close. "Come here Rach." She pulled down the blankets and opened her arms as Rachel climbed out of her own bed.

"I just -," Rachel choked out.

"I know," Quinn pulled the covers over her friend's body.

"- miss him -,"

"I know," Quinn wrapped her into a hug and stroked her hair.

"- SO MUCH."

"I know." Quinn slid down into the bed and rested her cheek on Rachel's head, finding the position that the girls would stay in until Quinn's alarm went off at seven the next morning.

_**I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
>I keep my eyes wide open all the time<br>I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line<strong>_

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah." Rachel knew she had been tired that night, but she must have really been out of it. She didn't even remember answering the phone, or Quinn shaking her violently or throwing things at her head to make her answer it, for that matter. But she must have, because that was definitely Noah's voice in her ear. "Where are you tonight?" She thought as hard as she could in her half-asleep state, her nose and forehead scrunching in concentration."Phoenix maybe, or Tulsa? I'm sorry, I can't remember the exact order. Or wait, are you still in Texas? I think Austin was the last one there, but I'm not sure. I'm sorry Noah, can you just tell me?"

Puck smirked at the tiny girl in front of him clutching her tattered stuffed rabbit to her chest. He wasn't exactly sure which part of this situation he found most amusing - the fact that she was concentrating so hard, even in her sleepy state, to remember where he was supposed to be, or the fact that she still obviously believed that she was talking to him on the phone. He gently lowered himself to his knees beside the bed, careful to brace himself only on the nightstand and not on her bed, not wanting to wake her fully just yet. "New York," he said simply, his smirk transforming to a smile as the crease in her forehead deepened.

"What? I'm sorry Noah, you must be breaking up," he actually had to shove a fist over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "I didn't understand you. Tell me one more time?"

"I said," he leaned forward so that his nose was only an inch from hers, "I'm in New York." He _loved _that smile, the one that broke out over her face just then.

"Rachel Berry," she murmured, still smiling. "Wait," he smirked again when he saw her tense, her knuckles going white on the rabbit, "New York?"

"NYU, specifically," he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the mattress as he whispered to her, bringing his mouth inches from her ear and letting his breath fan out over her cheek.

He almost regretted the new proximity, partly because he didn't get to see the look on her face when she realized what he was saying and her eyes flew open, but mostly because of the shriek that he was sure had just pierced his left eardrum. Rachel quickly discarded the stuffed animal that had, apparently, been acting as his substitute for the past several weeks and threw her arms around his neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward, wincing when his ass landed squarely on the heels of his boots.

"Hey baby," he said again once he had settled himself into a sitting position and she had finally stopped dropping sloppy kisses all over his face long enough to pull back and really look at him, her hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hey back." Rachel squirmed a little on his lap until her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms draped comfortably over his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" She let her fingernails scratch lightly over the back of his neck and head, making his eyes roll back a little.

"Well," he started, moaning a little when one of her hands snuck up and over his head to run all the way through his mohawk from front to back (_Don't hate, thing's badass and __**super**__ rock and roll. Age doesn't matter.)_ "I missed my girl." He smirked at her, "Is that okay with you?"

Rachel smacked a hard, loud kiss on his lips. "It's more than okay. But, you weren't supposed to have your break for almost another four weeks. What about the band?"

Puck shrugged. "They'll survive. We picked up another opener after that b.s. in Jackson, so their guy's gonna take my place until the break, then they're gonna come back and try to find somebody else to finish out the tour."

"So … you're not going to go back at all? But Noah -,"

"But nothin', baby. You're stuck with me. I ain't goin' nowhere now."

"Oh, Noah." Rachel sighed and buried her face into his neck, placing butterfly kisses there for a moment before coming back up. "Words cannot even express how happy I am to have you back home with me, really," one of her hands slid from where it rested on the back of his shoulder to his cheek, while the other tightened around his shoulders, pulling her body flush against his. "But I … I don't want you giving everything up for me. I mean, you already came to New York so we could be together while I pursue my dreams, I don't want you giving up yours for me as well."

Puck didn't reply at first, instead sliding one hand from the small of her back up to tangle in her hair and pull her face toward his. Then, while his tongue was sliding across hers and tickling ever so slightly at the roof of her mouth (because, while she complained about it, the little whimpers coming from the back of her throat told him that she secretly loved it), he pressed his feet flat onto the floor so that his thighs provided a wall for her to lean back on. Finally, he braced his free hand on the edge of the nightstand and slid his other hand back out of her hair and down to the small of her back to pull her body as tight against him as possible and support her weight. He pulled back from the kiss and let out a quiet grunt as he used his feet and the leverage provided by the night stand to push them up so that he was standing, then turned and dropped onto the bed so that he was sitting upright, facing Quinn's side of the room, and Rachel was again straddling his lap.

"Rachel," he removed both of his hands from her body and trailed his fingertips over her face – across her cheekbones, along her jaw, and even down her neck until finally he let them ghost over her shoulders and down her arms to twist his fingers with hers. "Baby, as long as I got this," he squeezed her hands in his, "I ain't givin' up a damn thing."

"Noah," her voice was nothing more than a shuddering, choked whisper as she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his.

"Yeah, I know," he rolled his eyes, "I keep goin' like that, you're gonna have to switch to Santana's team on account 'a the vagina I already started growin'."

Rachel groaned and pulled her hand from his to smack his shoulder, moving one leg to climb off his lap until he put a hand on her thigh, gently but forcefully, to keep her in place.

"Nuh uh, I ain't finished. I may'a sounded like a complete girl, or Finn," Puck laughed when her eyes rolled to find the ceiling, "just then, but that doesn't make it any less true." He smiled at the way she cocked her head to one side and studied him, her eyes flitting across his face from feature to feature. He pulled her hands behind him so that they wrapped around his waist then settled his own on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the skin exposed by her sleep shirt (which looked suspiciously like the Van Halen shirt he had 'lost' just before going on tour). "I love music Rach. Like, I legit love it as much as you do. And yeah, makin' a livin' through music – that's my dream. No doubt. But all this 'rock star'-"

_Air quotes, really, Puckerman?_ _Been away from the girl six weeks and still can't shake her influence._

"- shit, all that bein' in the spotlight, and a different city every night, and bein' away from home, and you, for weeks at a time, baby that is _not_ my dream. I realized that even though I freakin' hated that sketchy ass studio that I worked at last year, I actually loved the work. I mean, I was gettin' paid to play my guitar, but I wasn't really _performin'_ ya know?" He watched Rachel nod her head tentatively, like maybe she got it, but then again, maybe not. "I mean, it was like, if I missed a chord or somethin', which I didn't do, 'cause I'm just good like that, then we just scratched it and started again, ya know?" She nodded her head again, more forcefully this time. "And really, I liked performin' in the bars around here in the city, all low-key and stuff. It was just that when we went on tour, everything changed. It wasn't just about the music anymore, there was just so much stupid shit and I kinda hated it. And then when I heard you cryin' on the phone last night -,"

"I … I wasn't … You knew?" Rachel buried her head in his shoulder and mumbled into his shirt.

"Course I knew baby." Puck ran one hand up and down her back. "I _know_ you." He placed a soft kiss to her hair before continuing. "Now, like I was sayin' before you interrupted me, _again," _he mock-glared at her, "I'd been thinkin' for a little while now that that whole thing wasn't for me, and the way I just wanted to punch somethin' when you could barely say 'goodbye' last night and ya made those little whimperin' noises – and not the good kind, you _know _I love those," as if to prove it, he leaned forward and nipped at her neck, eliciting those very sounds from her. "Well, that just sealed the deal. So, I told the guys, and they were kinda pissy at first but then pretty cool about it," he shrugged, "and I took a taxi to the airport, where I paid out the nose for a ticket just to have, I dunno, a six hour layover in Atlanta. Ya know, I'm pretty sure they could fit, like, 952 normal airports into the Atlanta airport. That place is hell on Earth. Anyway, now here I am. I already called the warehouse and I think Bill almost cried when I said I wanted my job back, and I'm gonna go tomorrow while you're in class -,"

"Finals."

"-Takin' your test, then, and talk to the registrar at BMCC about goin' back in the fall. I think," he felt his face burning and he kind of wanted to throw something because the Puckasaurus didn't _do _blushing, but the only thing within his reach was Rachel, and he wasn't going to throw her, unless it was down onto her bed – or his bed, or his couch, or once the bed of his truck – but that had to wait, 'cause he really needed to get through this spiel. "Well, I think I want to look into music production, ya know, after I play in the studios – _real_ ones – for a while to get some experience and get my foot in the door, and maybe still just pick up some bar gigs on the weekends to get my live music fix." He shifted his weight to keep his center of balance when Rachel shifted her own weight back on his legs and moved her hands to rest them on his chest and push her body away from him. It was dark in the room, but he could tell she was just kind of staring back at him. "D'you … I mean, is that something you think I could do, Rach?"

"Noah, I think that sounds like something you could not only do, but something you would excel at. That is an amazing, _amazing_ plan."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." That was all Rachel could get out before he grabbed her face and sealed his lips to hers, holding her there until they both eventually found themselves lying on the bed facing one another.

"I missed this," Puck finally said, "your bed, and your blankets, and -,"

"Well of course you did." Rachel giggled. "I can only imagine that sleeping on that tour bus must have been awful."

"Nah, it was actually pretty nice." He smirked when Rachel pulled her 'I don't understand' face. "I mean, my mattress was super cozy, and the hum and the rock of the bus when we were moving – I actually slept pretty great."

"Oh." Rachel actually sounded kind of disappointed.

"But ya missed the point, babe. I said I missed _your_ bed, and _your_ blankets." An almost evil grin spread across his face as he moved to hover over her, one forearm on either side of her shoulders. "And I _know_ you missed me. I mean, come on, no _way_ that furball was a good substitute for me." He smirked and jerked his head in the general direction of Quinn's bed, the direction in which Rachel had flung her rabbit when she jumped off the bed and into his arms.

"I don't know, Noah," Rachel smirked back up at him with almost as much mischief as his own smirk had contained, "Mr. Floppy-Ears is very cuddly, and soft." She almost shrieked when his lips found her jaw, then her neck, then her shoulder, then … "And you, Noah Puckerman," and now _Rachel_ was actually growling, "are anything but soft."

"Ok, that's enough!" Quinn's voice from across the room shocked them both back into reality. "Do I need to call a hand-check?"

"Quinn!" Rachel sounded absolutely mortified. "I'm so sorry! I – I thought you were at Alex's! I didn't know you were here!" Rachel scrambled to push Puck off of her so she could sit upright, literally ready to show Quinn her hands.

"Yeah Q, real sorry, I didn't -,"

"Oh save it, Puckerman. I picked your ass up from the airport and let you into the room. You're the reason I'm _not_ at Alex's." Rachel gasped, scandalized, and slapped Puck on the chest.

"Hey babe, you wanna …" Puck wasn't ready to give up just yet, pulling on a strand of Rachel's hair and whispering huskily against her shoulder as he jabbed the thumb of his free hand toward the door.

"No Puckerman." _Way to cock-block, Fabray._ "Tomorrow's Thursday. After breakfast and our U.S. History final, _trust me, _I'll go to Alex's and make myself scarce. Surely to God you two can control yourselves that long," Puck actually snorted, did she know him? "Okay, fine, _Rachel _can control herself that long. But until then, let my girl get some sleep. She's got a 4.0 to maintain."

Puck knew he had lost that one when Rachel slumped down and pulled the comforter over her shoulders, although really, he was kind of on Quinn's side with the whole 4.0 thing. His girl was _awesome_; no way was he gonna be the one to get in the way of that. Besides, the way he saw it, they had the rest of their lives for all that other stuff, starting as soon as she got home from that damn final.


	16. Beautiful Day

'**Beautiful Day' – Saving Abel (www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=nWtfDWibLwo)**

_**I started out today  
>Thinking 'bout something else<br>As you lay beside me  
>It was a rude awakening<br>As I wiped the sleep from my eyes**_

Normally Puck hated waking up in the mornings. Sure, it was better than the alternative (ya know, _not _waking up), but that moment when you realize you're not sleeping anymore and you're about to have to leave the warm blankets and the cozy pillows and – well, it just sucks, okay. But it was Saturday, and he was actually waking up on his own, as in his ma wasn't breathing down his neck about getting up and getting ready for temple. That in itself was a near-miracle. And with his eyes still closed – there was still that sliver of hope that if he lay still for a few more minutes and _pretended _to still be asleep, that sleep might actually come back – he could focus all his attention on listening, and there wasn't so much as a peep or even the tiniest rustle from downstairs or from the direction of Sarah's room. So one of two things was going on; either he was the first one in the house awake (unlikely) or Ma and Sarah had gone on to temple without him (damn near impossible). Either way, it was kind of a cool feeling. Between having a mom who worked random, unpredictable shifts and a 13-year-old sister with more friends than she needed, not to mention the barrage of his own friends who were constantly in and out of the place, he didn't think he could even remember the last time he was in his own house in true peace and quiet.

He brought one hand to his face and scrubbed his fist over his eyes before reaching both feet toward the foot of the bed and lifting his arms over his head in a slow, full-body stretch. Only, as seemed to be the theme of the morning, he was met with a shock when only his right arm would actually move. The left one was weighted down and, come to think of it, still much more asleep than the rest of him. Without opening his eyes, he furrowed his brow, bringing his eyebrows together and causing deep creases to form in his forehead. The peacefulness of the morning was swept away as the previous night rushed back in, carrying with it an understanding of why no one had come to wake him up. Rolling onto his left side so that he could actually look at the tiny body he knew was occupying the other side of his bed, he opened his eyes for them to be met with a mass of dark waves splayed across one of his pillows.

He was kind of taken aback at how _natural _she looked in his bed. Yeah, he liked to make jokes about pretty much everything being natural with them, given that they were 'two good-looking Jews,' but it was just that – a joke. Like nearly everything he did lately, it was just an attempt to get a smile out of her. Not that she didn't smile – she smiled a lot more than she used to. She had actual friends now and the promise of NYADA in a few months; he just got this awesome _thing _in his stomach whenever he was the one to make her smile. But all joking aside, other than the way she clung tightly to his hand even in her sleep, there were no traces of the trembling, broken girl who had practically cried herself asleep in his bed the night before. She looked peaceful there, serene even (_shut up, her crazy-ass vocabulary was bound to rub off sooner or later_), lying on top of his sheets in a plain white t-shirt that hung on her shoulders and fell past her hips and a pair of cotton shorts he snatched from Sarah's clean laundry pile (almost a five-year age difference and his little sister's clothes fit Rachel almost perfectly – ridiculous, yet kind of awesome). The comforter was thrown almost to the floor and the sheets were tangled around their legs – everyone in the Puckerman house was used to sleeping alone and his mom tried to keep the electricity bill down by keeping the thermostat set as high as possible during warm weather, so it was no surprise that the extra body heat led them to ditch the covers. Still, with her body curled into a little ball and her shoulders rising and falling evenly, she looked perfectly comfortable lying with him.

_**But it's a beautiful day  
>It's a beautiful sunrise<br>I don't want to see you cry**_

Puck was torn. Know what, scratch that. 'Torn' just didn't cover it, cause that would imply that there was like, one thing he _wanted _to do and one thing he _should_ do. But this, this was his brain doing some fucked-up three-way (and NOT the good kind). Like, there was the thing he really wanted to do but would probably be really bad, the thing he could settle for doing that was much less likely to get him slapped, or the thing that was definitely the right thing to do but that his body just didn't seem to want to comply with. And he seriously had no fucking clue which part of his divided brain to listen to. Part of it wanted to let the rest of his body take the lead of his left arm and curl around Rachel's perfectly tiny body. But then another part just knew that would be too much, and wanted instead to let his left hand keep holding hers – their fingers knotted together even if he couldn't actually feel it – but keep the rest of his body on his own side of the bed, only letting his right hand cross the invisible line between them so that his fingers could brush softly through her hair – he knew she liked that. Finally, there was that part that had made him leave her alone on her bed the last time his mind and conscience had done this stupid dance, that asshole part of his brain that screamed that the smartest thing to do would be to just pull his arm from under her as gently as possible and roll off the bed altogether. He _hated_ that part, but he knew he could use some breathing room in the kitchen or something, and that way when she woke he wouldn't be there to make her feel pressured or uncomfortable or anything else negative that he definitely didn't want her feeling. She'd had enough negative lately, and the last thing he wanted was to get himself dumped into that category.

In the long run, it didn't really matter what he thought. Because the sun had been rising for a while, and it had just broken over the line of trees behind his house so that these pink-orange rays of light slanted between his pulled-back curtains and through the window. And somehow, every damn one of those rays seemed to find Rachel. The light legit made her like, shimmer or something (_not in that pansy-ass vampire way Sarah liked to go on about – chill_). Like, he always kind of had this urge to reach out and touch her hair, but in that light, it wasn't an urge – it was a goddamn necessity. So he did. But it was a compromise. He didn't bury his hand in it like he really wanted to; he settled for lifting the ends closest to him and letting them slide between his fingers. Her hair really was as soft as it looked. It'd been over a year since the last time he got his hands in it, and it was oddly comforting to know that hadn't changed.

Puck lifted his head and pulled his hand quickly but carefully from her hair when he saw Rachel start to shift. It was almost imperceptible at first, but her legs twitched a little before her feet flexed and her toes curled under. Then her right hand, the one that wasn't clutching his and buried half under her pillow, moved to her face to rub sleepily at her eyes. Her breath went from deep and even to startled, at first, then to shallow, and finally to hitchy. He didn't like hitchy. Hitchy usually led to crying, and the last thing he wanted was for her to cry. There had been more than enough of that already.

"Rach?" He kept his voice low, a whisper really, just in case he was wrong and she wasn't awake. If he happened to be wrong and she was still asleep (_yeah, wishful thinking, whatever_), he wanted to keep it that way. While she was sleeping it was like everything was right. It was all good. "You awake?" She didn't answer him. She didn't even move. After a few quiet seconds, he let his head relax back into his pillow and his hand slip back into her hair.

_**You started whispering  
>This can't be happening<br>Cause I don't want to lose my cool  
>But was it something I said<br>Or something I did  
>Ooh, to spark a flame<br>But it hurts to see your face  
>It hurts to hear you cry<br>It hurts to see the look in your eyes**_

A couple minutes had passed, just long enough to let Puck believe that maybe Rachel really was still asleep and that her movements from before had just been a fluke, when his phone started to vibrate on the night stand. He rolled over and grabbed the phone as quickly as possible without moving his left arm. _'Cereal in the cabinet. Ma wants to know if you and Rach are ok with Chinese for lunch.'_ He looked up from his sister's text to the clock in the top right corner of the phone's screen. 8:30 – just about the time his mom's Volvo should be pulling into the temple parking lot. Well, that answered two questions then. First, his Ma was aware that his late-night visitor had turned into an early-morning guest. Secondly, they _had_ gone to temple without him. Huh.

'_S&s pork for me, veggie fried rice for Rach. NO MEAT NO EGGS' _The reply took him longer to type than he was used to; that shit was hard one-handed. He set the cell phone quietly back onto the nightstand after changing the text alert to silent so that it couldn't wake Rachel if Sarah for some reason decided to try to continue their conversation. When he rolled back onto his side so that he was again facing his companion, he noticed that she had moved again. Her chin was tucked into her chest and her face buried in the pillow.

"No no no no no." Rachel was whispering, and it was muffled by the pillow, but he didn't doubt what he heard. "Oh God what did I do? What was I _thinking_? I shouldn't be here …"

Well shit. Here he was thinkin' he'd made progress, that even though she'd been dating Finn they were friends, _good_ friends. But apparently, just like every other time she'd found herself in his arms (although, not in his bed, this time was a first for that), Rachel had decided it was a mistake. _He_ was a mistake.

He didn't think she knew he was awake, because she hadn't actually said anything to him, and she was trying to slide her hand out of his. Not happening. He tightened his fingers around hers and reached his right hand out to her shoulder as she rolled farther away from him.

"Rachel." She didn't reply, but she stopped moving and he heard a deep sigh. "Rachel, look at me." Puck used the hand still resting on her shoulder to roll her toward him so that his left arm ended up under her back and practically wrapped around her.

He didn't know what to say at first. He'd never seen Rachel like that before. He knew she cried. Everybody knew she cried. More than once he'd watched her stomp away from Finn toward the girls' bathroom biting her lip. They'd all witnessed her disappearing act after the top 10 list was posted at Nationals the previous year, and they didn't miss how her eyes were just a little redder than usual when she finally returned. But as far as he knew, no one, besides maybe Kurt, had ever actually seen her cry. The sight broke Puck's heart, and at that moment, he didn't even care if that made him sound like a pussy, because while she might regret him, he didn't regret her – even if, for him, 'her' was just friend, just a girl who talked to him and actually listened when he had something to say. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her chin still quivered a little bit, but it was her eyes that really did him in. They were just so dull, lifeless almost, and so not Rachel.

_**Cause it's a beautiful day  
>It's a beautiful sunrise<br>But I don't want to see you cry  
>But I can take away your pain<br>The feeling's just the same  
>But I can't stand to see you cry<strong>_

Puck finally detangled his left hand from hers and curled it up to wipe a stray tear from Rachel's cheek and brush her bangs off her forehead. He then slid his arm out from under her shoulders and used it to prop himself up and look down on her, keeping his other hand firmly on her shoulder in case she tried to take off again. They needed to have a serious talk before she went anywhere. "Look, Rachel, I don't know exactly what you think might have happened," he let his fingertips rub gentle, soothing circles over the exposed skin of her collarbone. "But I swear, I didn't do nothin'. _We_ didn't do nothin'. I mean, I don't even know why I'm tellin' you this, 'cause it's not like I got you drunk or whatever, so if we had'a done somethin' you'd remember. Anyway," he shook his head to clear his mind and get himself back on track, "other than the vice grip _you _had on _my_ hand, I didn't touch you all night, I swear Rachel. I was asleep 30 seconds after you stopped cryin' and I was sure you were finally asleep. And as for this mornin', well, I been awake five minutes and you been awake three, so you do the math." Puck cleared his throat when Rachel continued to stare up at the ceiling and refused to so much as look his way. "Point is, I guess, whatever you're freakin' out about, you can stop, k?"

"Noah," she spoke without looking at him. "I, I have to go." She moved to push herself up on her elbows, and Puck slid his hand off her shoulder and down her arm to wrap his fingers around her forearm.

"No you don't. And you're not."

"Noah," he knew the sigh she let out was supposed to sound exasperated, but the way her breath shuddered only sounded broken. "My dads -,"

"Know you're here. I mean, my Ma knows, which means there's no way they don't know. And if there were any issues, they'da called by now." His fingers trailed up and down the inside of her arm.

"And Finn-,"

"Broke up with you." He flinched when he heard her gasp, followed by a long, ragged breath. "I'm sorry Rach." He pushed himself up so that he was half-sitting with his back against the headboard and pulled Rachel onto him until her head fell on his bare stomach (_What? He'd already given up half his bed for her, he didn't see why he needed to change any more of his sleeping habits just 'cause she was there_.) and her legs tangled with his. His right hand found her left one and the other smoothed her hair over her shoulder and down her back. "I don't wanna upset you, and I'm not tryin'a be a dick, really. I just wanna be your friend. Okay?" he couldn't stand to look at her the way she was right then, but he felt her head nod against him. "But that means I'm only ever gonna be honest with you, even when it sucks."

Rachel choked a little, and he knew she was probably crying again, or trying not to, but she snaked her free hand behind his back and used it to grip onto his side, pulling herself closer to him. "I don't know why …" He looked down at her when she spoke, her voice still a little shaky, but almost clear, "I mean, I knew there was an expiration date, but -,"

"It still sucks."

She nodded. "And I just didn't expect-,"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that Rach. I know." Almost unconsciously, he rubbed his hand up and down her back as he spoke, and he squeezed her hand tighter in his, letting his thumb run over her knuckles. "Wanna know the good news, though?" She hummed into his stomach. "This," he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him, "this friendship _thing _we've got, there's no expiration date on that."

_**The list goes on and on  
>There's never enough<br>But who is when and when is where  
>We've been there it's tough<br>But if I've come too far  
>It's not far enough<br>We'll get there just take your time, realize  
>You believe in me<strong>_

"So like, don't take this the wrong way or anything, 'cause it's cool havin' you around and I'm glad you're here or whatever, but why _are_ you here?"

Rachel looked up at him as if he'd just asked why the sky is blue or why she loved Barbra Streisand. "I … well, I thought that was obvious." She seemed to think that answered everything, but he only looked back at her blankly. "I was sad. And lonely."

"That doesn't answer my question." Puck looked down at her squirming in his lap. He wasn't sure if she really didn't get it, or if she just didn't want to. Either way, he was going to hold her to an answer.

"Of course it does. That's why I'm here."

"No, that's why you're not at home. But that doesn't explain why you're _here_." She looked confused as she stared back up at him. "Rach, you could've gone anywhere. I mean, I know Kurt's your _best_ friend, and I get why you didn't want to go to him, but you still had lots of other options. You have other friends now Rachel, good ones. I'm pretty sure even Santana would have been there for you on this one. Hell, Evans lives with you. If you really just wanted an ear to bend, all you had to do was go down the hall. So, why'd you come here? Why me?"

"I … I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be a problem." Rachel's voice shuddered and she hid her face from him as she tried to push herself off of Puck, but he only tightened his grip around her waist.

Puck didn't know why she insisted on believing that she was like, a burden, or whatever. So yeah, they'd had a rough start, with the slushees and all that other stupid shit he gave up on a couple years ago, but that was in the past. He had told her that he was glad she was there, and he meant it. "Don't start that shit. I already told you it's not a problem. I like havin' you around, as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise, and I'm glad you came to me. I just want you to tell me why you did." See, the thing was, he didn't so much want to know why she came to him – he was pretty sure he already knew – as he wanted to hear her say it.

Rachel stopped to think about that. She stared up at his face, studying each feature almost meticulously, and ran the fingers of her right hand, which was still hooked behind his back, randomly over the sensitive skin on his hip. "I … well … you were just the first person I thought of. Finn was telling me that since I'm going to New York and he's staying here, which we both already knew, he didn't see the point in wasting any more time with me when he could be moving on to someone he could actually have a future with." Puck slid his fingers through her hair again and nodded, he'd already heard the long version of all that. "And the whole time my heart was breaking into smaller and smaller pieces, because while all that was true, I never thought he would ever consider me – us – a waste of time, all I could think about was how I wanted to see your face and feel you hold me and run your hands through my hair, like you did when you were the only one who showed up at my dance recital. Like that," he stilled the movement of his hand for half a second before laughing and continuing the soothing motion. "I wanted to hear you tell me that, even if we stopped being friends today, you wouldn't consider me a waste of time. I just felt like I needed to be with you. I don't really know why."

"I do." Puck's left arm stopped moving and draped over her back, and he pulled his other hand from hers and dropped it softly across her shoulders, his fingers tugging up the sleeve of his t-shirt and tracing over her arm. "Because first of all, I wouldn't ever say you're a waste of time, although you can give it up with that shit about 'if we stopped being friends today,' 'cause I already told you, there's no expiration date on us. Secondly, Rach, do you realize you're the only person who's ever believed in me?" She stared wide-eyed up at him. "Seriously. Sometimes, like now, I don't think even you realize how much faith you have in me. Like, you're on my ass all the time, but even when you're yellin' at me over somethin' stupid I did, ya never treat me like _I'm _stupid. Just the _way_ you push me to be better proves that you believe I can be, and that's freakin' awesome. So you might not think you know why you came here, but really, it was 'cause all that stuff you wanted, everything you needed when Finn was makin' you feel like shit, somewhere in there," he lifted his hand from her shoulder and tapped the top of her head, "between Barbra and your Tony speech and the set list you probably already got lined up for Nationals, you knew you'd get it from me."

_**Cause it's a beautiful day  
>It's a beautiful sunrise<br>And I can't stand to see you cry  
>But I can take away your pain<br>The feelings just the same yea  
>Well I can't stand to see you cry<strong>_

"Okay then Noah, why are _you_ here?" Neither of them had moved for several minutes, Rachel content to let Puck comfort her the only way he knew how – physically, with his hands running over her body in the least dirty way he knew how – and Puck content just to provide that comfort. Finally, she pushed herself up a little so that she was sitting next to him with one of his arms around her shoulders and the other resting on her mid-thigh, her head landing on his chest now instead of his stomach.

"Hate to break it to ya babe," he chuckled, "but this is _my _bed. In _my_ room. In _my _house. I'm kinda sposed to be here."

"Maybe," Rachel shrugged, "but I'm not _supposed _to be here. You would have fulfilled your duties as a friend just by lending me a sympathetic ear then sending me on my way. You would have been a _great_ friend if you had lent me that ear and a shoulder to cry on then offered me your couch. But you did so much more. Noah, you listened to me vent and scream, and you held me while I cried, then you shared your bed with me, even though I know for a fact that I slept on your arm all night and the pins and needles didn't go away until just a few minutes ago."

Puck pulled her away from his body by her shoulder and tilted his head down to stare – almost glare – at her, "How the hell did you -,"

"Your hand twitched every time you touched me," she giggled. "It finally stopped just a little bit ago."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and pulled her almost roughly back against him. He didn't want her to see him smiling – grinning because the tiny girl who had somehow wormed her way into his life knew him _that_ well was so not badass. "So, you mean to tell me that all I really had to do was sit here and pretend to listen for a while, then I coulda sent you home and had my bed all to myself?" Puck's head fell back against the wall and he smirked to himself. Come on, Rachel might have showed up to see 'Noah' and not 'Puck,' but even she couldn't expect Puck to stay completely gone for this long. Besides, it was fun to play with her a little. (_Yeah, that sounds dirty, it's not. Get over it._)

"Lovely Noah, really." Rachel swatted his stomach and laughed when he feigned actual pain, grunting and doubling over slightly. He knew that it didn't really matter what he said; somewhere in the back of her mind (probably tucked away with all that other stuff he had just pointed out) she knew that the thought of sending her home had never crossed his mind. "But really," she looked up at him earnestly, "I told you – well, you told me – why I came here. Very accurately, I might add, so now I want you to tell me why you put up with me and let me stay here."

"Seriously? I really have to explain this to you?"

"Well, yes. I want to know."

"Geez woman, I know why you really get up so early, and it has nothing to do with that damn elliptical takin' up space in the corner of your bedroom." Puck only shook his head when Rachel looked back at him, confused. "It's 'cause your brain don't start workin' 'till you been up for," he reached over to the night stand and turned the alarm clock toward the bed, "well, more than 30 minutes, at least." She huffed and tried to push herself away from him, but he only held her tighter against him. "I'm sorry, I'm not bein' mean babe, I'm just … bein' me I guess. Just playin' with ya." Rachel seemed hesitant, but gave in after a few seconds and let her body relax back against his when he rubbed his hand gently over her leg. "Ya know all that stuff I said before, all the reasons why you showed up here instead 'a goin' to anybody else?" Her head nodded against his chest. "Well, those are all the same reasons why I'm here."

_**But it's a beautiful day  
>It's a beautiful sunrise<br>Oh I just want to see you smile  
>Cause I can take away your pain<br>The feelings just the same  
>Yea, I just want to see you smile<strong>_

Two and a half hours later, Puck was convinced that Rachel was asleep again. It really wouldn't surprise him; she had been drained when she showed up at his house the previous night, and he didn't imagine she had slept well, for a few reasons. Besides, she hadn't made a sound since she questioned (or, ya know, _harassed_) him about his decision to turn on the XBox and scroll through the Netflix selections to find the 1980s animated Spiderman series. (_"Saturday mornin' means cartoons, Rach, and the ones on tv now suck."_) In his experience, she almost _had _to be asleep to be that quiet. So, when she actually did speak up, it startled him a little.

"You know, this Mary Jane girl is really quite frustrating." Puck tilted his head down to look at her, and though her head was still facing directly forward, he could see traces of the glare she was sending the television. "I mean, Peter is her best friend, and he's always there when she needs him, and it's so clear to everyone that he's completely in love with her, but she's just so oblivious that she goes on relegating him to that role of friend when it is painfully obvious that he wants more. And really, what does she think, that she could do better somehow? Even without all his super-spidey powers -,"

_Did Rachel Berry just say 'super-spidey powers?' Fucking epic._

"- she could never find anyone better than the man who has stood by her no matter what." She huffed one last time and nuzzled closer to him, wrapping her arm securely around his waist and dropping her hand to clutch the elastic waistband of his pajama pants.

Puck tried, really, to hold back the snort that came out. He knew that the last thing she needed was to feel like he was making fun of her. But seriously? Did she really just say that? English wasn't his best subject, but he was pretty sure this whole set-up was a textbook example of irony. Or symbolism. Or some shit like that …

'_And we gon' make you lose your mind …'_

Well that shit came out of nowhere. They both jumped when Puck's phone started to ring.

"Honestly Noah!" Rachel was chastising him, but he couldn't even reach for the damn phone because he was laughing so hard. That ringtone was seriously one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

'_We just wanna see ya … ' _

"I _knew_ I should never have let you talk me into giving you details." He only continued to laugh even as she slapped half-heartedly at his hip. Whatever, she wasn't _really_ mad.

'_Shake that …'_

"C'mon Rach, ya found him in Kentucky, dancin' for dollar bills from middle aged women, goin' by the name 'a 'White Chocolate.' Evans should be _thankin' _me that all I did was change his ringtone."

'_Everyday I'm shufflin' …'_

She sat up and reached over him to grab the phone off the night stand and shove it into his chest. "Just answer the phone, Noah." She settled back into his side after he took the phone from her, and he was pretty sure she could have accomplished all that without actually jamming her pointy little elbow into his stomach.

"'Sup man? … Yeah, dude, sounds awesome. You know I'm always down for kickin' your ass in paintball. When? … Oh, no man, today's out, I'm busy. Sorry," he glanced down at Rachel, but if she was paying any attention to his conversation, she didn't let on. "Yeah. Later." He ended the call, but before he even got the phone back onto the nightstand, the screen was flashing with an incoming text message.

'_take care of her – it was bad'_ Puck was glad to know that at least one other person besides himself was looking out for Rachel (although why Evans couldn't just have said, "Hey, is Rach over there?" he didn't understand). It also helped to know that the person she shared a roof with was on her side, just in case for some reason she couldn't come running to his door the next time she needed comforting – and he didn't doubt there would be a next time; she felt too much for this to be the end of it. He just chose to ignore the feeling of jealousy and anger that coiled in the pit of his stomach when he couldn't help but picture her curled up watching 30-year-old cartoons in _Sam's_ bed, _Sam's_ hand rubbing lazy circles over her back as she clung to the blonde.

The episode ended and the credits began to roll as Puck typed a quick, _'I will'_ back to Sam and set the phone back on the nightstand. Rachel stretched against him and pushed herself up so that her head reached his shoulder.

"I suppose I should be going now. I've intruded on you enough, and now your mother and sister will be home soon." Yet, she made no move to get out of the bed and punctuated the statement with a long sigh.

"Don't be stupid." That earned him a gasp and an indignant little shriek. "They'll be pissed if you're not here when they get home." Puck chuckled, "They're even bringin' ya lunch. Veggie fried rice – I know that's your favorite." He studied the television and focused on fighting down the blush creeping from his ears down to his neck.

"You're amazing, Noah." She spoke into his shoulder and her voice shuddered a little. "Really, I can't … I can't imagine what I would do without you."

"'S no problem Rach," he shrugged, shooting for nonchalance. "What are friends for, right?"

And then he meant to kiss her forehead, really. She was just over 12 hours out of the most serious relationship either of them had ever been in, and although the break-up itself wasn't exactly a shock – it was expected, really – the way it happened was devastating. Rachel was heartbroken, and the last thing he wanted to do was make that worse by making her think that the one person she chose to come to for comfort and friendship was hitting on her, or worse, trying to take advantage of her. But just like a moment out of one of those stupid romantic comedies he stillmaintained made you grow a vagina if you watched all the way through, the moment he turned to press his lips onto her forehead was the same second that she chose to turn her own face up to look at him. And, as if by some magnetic pull, his lips landed not on her forehead or her nose or even her cheek, but squarely on her mouth.

The kiss remained nothing more than a tender press of lips against lips. Rachel's mouth didn't open for him, and his tongue didn't meet her lips to request entrance. Even so, Puck's eyes _did_ fall closed as soon as he felt her soft lips against his, and his arm, which had been slung casually over her shoulders, tightened around her and pulled her body flush against his. Just before pulling away from the kiss, he sucked her bottom lip gently between his own, just enough to make sure she felt _something_. But as quickly as he had initiated the action, he ended it, pecking at her lips once more then backing away from her. He let his hand rise to run over her hair, then, without a word, he turned and stood off the bed. "C'mon," he grabbed a t-shirt off the video gaming chair in the corner of the room then turned back to face his guest, who sat, looking dumbfounded, right where he had left her. "Like you said, Ma and Sarah will be home soon. Guess we should at least go set the table or somethin'."

"Right." Rachel looked down at her hands in her lap before getting out of the bed and taking Puck's outstretched hand at the door.

"Noah," she stopped them after taking only two steps into the hall. "What does this mean? I mean, what … what are we?"

"We're best friends, Rach." He squeezed her hand, "It means we're two, _single,_ best friends, who are going to keep being exactly that for the next few months. And then, we're both going to New York."

_**The list goes on and on**_


	17. I'm Yours, part I

_A/N: First, I want to apologize. Yes, I know it's been forever since I updated this collection. (Seriously, almost two months, I don't know how that happened.) I did do one unrelated one-shot in between, but mostly it was just real life getting in the way. Now, for the acknowledgements. I haven't done this in a while, so I'll hit everyone. As always, the amazing __**Tashana Ambrosia**__ and __**SilverSnikle**__ helped keep me from pulling my hair out while I was writing this one, and helped keep me in line when my brain wasn't wanting to cooperate or just generally slipped up. In addition, I have to thank __**LoVe. addict08**__ for this one. She suggested the song, which I had never heard before but fell in love with (and downloaded) immediately. It just grabbed my heart and wouldn't let go, which is another reason this story took so long to get out there. I hope it was worth the wait._

"**I'm Yours" – The Script {www[dot]youtube[.]com/watch?v=wtVbumrFmzA}**

A lot of things can happen in 10 years. A baby grows into a child – a pre-teen, even. It walks and talks and goes to school and makes friends and becomes an actual person. An oak tree grows 15 feet in 10 years. A television show that lasts 10 years is considered to be a huge success, a veteran by current standards. Hell, anymore a _marriage_ that lasts 10 years is practically a miracle. Ten years is a long time – a decade, a generation, a _lifetime_ by some standards.

For Noah Puckerman, 10 years meant a high school graduation, four jobs and zero careers, a short-lived engagement to the wrongest of girls, and watching his little sister gradate high school, then college, and then sneak off for a quickie wedding and what looked to be a not-so-quickie marriage. He hated to say it, one 'cause he was more than a little leery of that whole 'romance/soul mates' thing, and two 'cause he wanted to continue thinking of his little sister as just that, but the way Sarah and Aaron looked at each other and spoke to and about each other and just generally _were_ when they were around one another pointed toward babies and grandbabies and silver and golden and maybe even _platinum _anniversaries (they reminded him of his Grandpa Joe and Nana Connie, and it was just really sweet, even though he would never, _ever_ say that out loud).

Those 10 years meant just kind of floating through, and bouncing from one project or scheme or grand idea to another and never really going anywhere with any of them. They meant cursing Lima, Ohio and swearing that one day he was going to get out of the hellhole town that all but defined him but never actually doing anything about it. Until he did.

Puck woke up on his 28th birthday and decided he was done. He was done jumping from one job he hated to another that he hated just as much, if not more. He was done walking into the grocery store or the dentist's office or any restaurant worth eating in and running into an ex (and he uses that term loosely, in many cases) who hated him and stared daggers at him, yet inevitably managed to flirt with him before he got away. He was done seeing the looks of pity the old biddies at temple shot his mom every Saturday morning when they walked in together. In short, he was done being a Lima Loser.

He knew his mom would be sad to see him go; he was really the only family she had left around since Aaron got that job in Indianapolis and Sarah moved away, but he also knew how sad it made her to see him living the life that he was. She spent his entire childhood trying to teach him how not to be his father, and he was finally going to step out of Eli Puckerman's shadow. His ma would understand that, even if it meant picking up and leaving Lima, and everything about it, behind.

He quit his job without so much as a two-day, let alone a _two-week_ notice. He didn't figure it really mattered, since he had absolutely no intention of ever unloading stock and cleaning back rooms again, at Best Buy or anywhere else. He packed everything that would fit into his two suitcases and Grandpa Joe's old Army foot locker and threw them into the back of his truck, then sold everything else for $200 to the kid who was taking over the lease on his apartment. He spent his last night in Lima in his old room just down the hall from his ma, then got up the next morning, kissed her goodbye, and climbed into the truck with his guitar occupying the passenger seat. When she asked him where he was going, he lifted one shoulder and answered, "Dunno. Hadn't really thought about it. New York, maybe." A couple silent tears slid down her face, but she nodded and gave him a small smile, like maybe she knew something he didn't, or maybe she just expected that all along.

To be honest, he really _hadn't_ thought about where he was going before his mother asked, but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he figured New York was as good a place as any to start over. It didn't matter that once he got there he had no more idea what he was going to do than when he left.

When he pulled into the city, he decided that, for one night, that didn't really matter. He drove in what felt like circles until he finally saw a motel that looked like a balance somewhere between what he could really afford and somewhere a civilized human being would choose to stay. He didn't care that the whole room, bathroom included, was about the size of the walk-in pantry in his ma's kitchen. It seemed clean enough – it certainly didn't _smell _disgusting, anyway – and he didn't hear any gunshots or an alarming abundance of sirens, so he figured the place was good enough for him, for a little while, anyway.

~.~

Puck was on the sidewalk by 8 a.m. the next day. Regardless of how it may have seemed in high school – he just really thought school was for chumps, okay? – Noah Puckerman was not afraid of hard work. And he knew there was no way he was going to last more than a week in New York otherwise. So because going back to Lima was just not an option, he was determined to find a job. That day, if he played his cards right.

Later, at lunch, thinking things through over what had to be the best hot pastrami on rye ever made, Puck shook his head and wondered why people complained so much about the economy. He'd been in the city for about 14 hours, job hunting for about four, and he'd already landed not one, but two jobs. Okay, so the two were kind of connected, but whatever.

The third place he'd walked into after getting off the subway at Times Square (because hell, why not, right?) was a random little music store called 'The Band House.' When the clerk, some high school punk who looked like he wouldn't know a bass from a bass drum, went to get the manager, Puck picked up one of the demo acoustic guitars and, without thinking or planning, started to play.

"Neil Diamond. A classic."

Puck's head jerked up from the instrument when he heard the manager, a small man who looked to be at least in his 60s, speak to him. "A musical Jewish icon," he replied with a smirk. "Sir," he added quickly, lifting the leather strap off his shoulder and replacing the guitar on its stand to extend a hand to the older man.

"So, what can I do for you son? You in the market?"

"Nah, I got my own baby. I-I was actually kind of hoping there was something I could do for you." Puck squared his shoulders and looked at the man straight-on, projecting his best honest, genuine image. "I just got into town – sir," he coughed a little into his fist and tried his best to make it look like he wasn't completely uncomfortable using the term of respect, "and I could really use a job. I love music, and I only play guitar and piano, and bass and drums a little -,"

"Only, huh?" The older man chuckled.

Puck continued, ignoring the interruption, since that seemed to be the safest course of action, in terms of like, respect and politeness, or whatever, "-but I'm pretty sure I could answer any question about anything in here."

"Let me get this straight," the manager crossed his arms over his chest and leveled Puck with a questioning look, "you're brand new to town," Puck nodded, "and you walk in here, pick up one of my cheapo display models and play 'Sweet Caroline' like, well," the man laughed lightly, "like no one your age should be able to, and you want me to hire you to sell guitars you'd probably give your left arm to _play _to spoiled Manhattanites who'll go home, break the strings after a day and never pick 'em up again?"

"Umm," Puck rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "yes?"

The manager let his head fall back and let out a full belly laugh. "At least you're honest. Alright kid -,"

"Uh, I'm 28, sir."

"Right, you gotta job, under two circumstances, _kid_," he looked back at Puck, amused, as Puck nodded his head enthusiastically, "one, don't ever, _ever_ call me sir again. You think I'm old or something?" Puck's eyes widened as he shook his head, "Alright then, I'm Abe. And you are?"

"Noah Puckerman. Puck, if that's alright with you."

"Whatever," Abe shrugged. "Second condition, you open every weekday, six to two. Take about an hour or so break, then come back and give lessons. I know it makes for a long day, but trust me, it'll be worth it. You'll make more money givin' private lessons for three hours a day than you'll ever get outta me, but ya gotta work for me too, 'cause the prick at the insurance agency says I can only let full-time employees give lessons here on account of the liability, or whatever, and those lessons bring me a lotta business too, so I'd like to keep 'em around. You don't even have to give me a cut of what you make, just, ya know, encourage 'em to open their wallets a little bit wider while they're here. All that sound doable, kid?"

"Y-yes – yeah! That sounds awesome." If Puck had _ever _been the hugging type, he was pretty sure he would have hugged Abe so hard he might have broken a few bones. Seriously, dude was old.

_**You touch these tired eyes of mine  
>And map my face out line by line<br>And somehow growing old feels fine  
>I listen close for I'm not smart<br>You wrap your thoughts in works of art  
>And they're hanging on the walls of my heart<strong>_

When he finished his lunch, Puck left the deli and decided to go looking. He wasn't looking _for _anything, exactly. It was just that he figured he might as well get a little familiar with his new neighborhood while he had the time. And okay, it wasn't exactly like he lived there. Yet. But that's where he would be working, and he figured, eventually, it's where he'd be living, too. Besides, the job hunt had taken a lot less time than expected, so he had a free afternoon in front of him. And the idea of going back to his shitty motel, with its tiny room and three television channels, was just depressing.

So, he walked. He walked from the deli back toward The Band House, just to make sure he had his bearings. Then, he walked back toward Times Square, laying out the route that would take him to work every morning. At least, it would until he found a place of his own. When he got there, he just stood for a minute, taking all in. He didn't want to be, like, all touristy, or anything, but he hadn't taken the time that morning to really let it soak in, and no matter how much he tried to play it off, he knew it was a big deal.

After a few minutes had passed and he felt he was about to cross the line from appreciating his new circumstances to, like, gawking, he started walking again. He had no particular destination in mind, so he just turned and took off, ending up on 42nd Street. It didn't take him long to realize he had walked smack into the Theater District. The realization brought a smile to his lips as his mind involuntarily conjured up images of long, dark waves of hair and wide, shiny, chocolate-colored eyes. He laughed at himself when his own eyes started to play a trick on him, transforming the chick on the _Mamma Mia!_ poster on the side of the bus stop into the same pint-sized ball of passion and energy that he'd just been remembering. Only, the longer he looked, the more it became clear to him that his mind _wasn't _playing tricks on him. That really was the same hair. Those were the same eyes. Those were the same lips and the same cute little hands and the same nose. Definitely the same nose. _And thank God for that._

It wasn't that the poster itself surprised him. In fact, he would have been shocked to learn that there wasn't a Broadway poster somewhere with her face or name on it. He just wasn't expecting to see it – to see _her_ – so soon after getting into the city. He also wasn't expecting the way it made him feel. He expected to feel something, of course. He figured he'd be kinda nostalgic, and definitely a little turned on (she'd been hot 10 years ago, no reason to think that woulda changed by now), but the last thing he had counted on was homesickness. That wasn't to say he missed Lima. Hell no! He'd been outta that shit town just over 24 hours, and already they'd been the best 24 hours of his life. But there was just this feeling she stirred in him, a feeling he'd _always _gotten with her, of contentment and warmth and just belonging. He knew that the hollow feeling in his stomach and chest was directly linked to the fact that he had been without that feeling of belonging, that feeling of home, for about 10 years. And once the homesickness washed over him, he had to wonder how he had even made it through the last 10 years without her there to push him along. And it wasn't like he'd spent all that time like, wallowing, or whatever. To be honest, he rarely even thought of her unless someone brought her up. But now, seeing her face again, even in a photograph and buried under stage make-up, in _her _city, made him feel like he needed to see her for real. He needed to talk to her and have her tell him that she believed in him and that he was _never_ a Lima Loser, even if it had taken him 10 years to figure it out himself. He didn't really know why, but he _needed_ her to tell him that he was doing the right thing and that he wasn't going to fall on his face. He needed the girl who cornered him in the choir room and gave him a very _loud_, very _angry_, 15-minute lecture about how he could – he _would _– be something amazing one day when he made that comment about being dead or in jail in response to Mr. Schue's 'where will you be in 2030?' question; the same girl who nearly tackled him off the stage a couple weeks later when it was just the two of them left in the auditorium after he admitted that he really did care about graduating.

Puck scanned the poster until his eyes landed on the words 'New Amsterdam Theater.' There was no address, but he figured t couldn't be that hard to find, considering that every way he looked he saw theaters. It took him about an hour (he had doubled back a couple times and no _way _was he going to ask an actual New Yorker for directions and prove just how new he was) but almost randomly, he found himself standing directly in front of _her _theater.

"Hey." The kid in the box office jumped and looked up from the book he was reading when Puck spoke to him. "Yeah, I uh …" he shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I never done this before, so I don't know if you gotta like, buy tickets way in advance, or …"

"You alone?"

"Huh?"

"We've got about 10 empty seats left for tonight, but they're all singles."

"Yeah. It's just me." Puck half-way expected the kid to act surprised or give him a once-over or something – he certainly would have given a second look to someone who looked like him buying theater tickets for just himself – but the guy only nodded and tapped away at the keyboard in front of him. He guessed it _was_ New York, after all. Kid had probably seen way weirder shit. "Hey, uhh … Rachel Berry is gonna be performin' tonight, right? I mean, I saw her name on the sign, I just wanted to make sure."

The kid snorted a little as he chuckled at Puck's question. "Oh yeah. She'll be out there. They say the worst job on Broadway right now is to be Rachel Berry's understudy. Director had to actually ban her from the theater for three days when she twisted her ankle in rehearsal and it swelled up to the size of a softball. Baseball," he corrected himself, leaning closer to the glass and looking at Puck as if he were sharing insider information. "She's _really_ tiny to begin with." He sat back in his chair almost smugly and held out his hand expectantly.

Puck smiled as he handed over his debit card, and the kid grinned back proudly, so Puck knew he thought he had succeeded in impressing a Rachel Berry fan. Puck was really smiling because it made him happy to be reminded that, if nothing else, some things never changed. "And, is there like, any way I could see her before or after the show?"

"Wouldn'ta pegged you to stagedoor," the teen snickered.

"Huh?" Puck didn't mean to like, _sneer_, or whatever, but he figured he must have, if the way the kid stiffened and straightened his face was any indication.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Umm, yeah, if you wait by the side door after the show, a lot of the actors come out and sign autographs and stuff. Miss Berry does it pretty much every night. Hey," he stopped, the hand holding Puck's card and the ticket for the play paused halfway to the opening in the glass, "you're not some crazy stalker psycho or something, are you? If Miss Berry turns up like, floating in the Hudson next week or something, I _will _remember what you look like."

Puck couldn't help but laugh at the kid's delayed, and misplaced, worry and his ludicrous almost-threat.

"Don't worry. I'm cool."

The young man behind the window gave him one last look, his eyes traveling critically from Puck's head to his feet, before finally approving, if the fact that he handed over his ticket and card was any indication. Puck smirked when he thought about the mohawk that used to be his trademark and how it would have really thrown the kid for a loop.

"Well," the kid was smiling again, no doubt ready to impart more Rachel Berry wisdom. "If you're going to bring flowers, Miss Berry likes -,"

"Lilies. I know." Puck grinned when the kid's face shifted from proud and almost smug to slightly disappointed. "Thanks though. For everything," he lifted the hand holding the ticket as he backed away from the window.

~.~

Puck was really glad he was wearing his job hunting clothes – his lone pair of khakis and the only button-down shirt he owned that wasn't plaid – because it meant he hadn't had to go back to his crappy motel room and change for the show. He still felt a little underdressed compared to some of the people around him, but he also saw some people who looked a little worse off than he did, so he figured he was doing okay.

When the show ended, he hung around in his seat while the rest of the audience cleared out. He told himself that he was just waiting because he didn't want to fight the crowd and because he knew Rachel wouldn't be out yet anyway, but there was a part of him, a tiny little part that he tried really hard to ignore, that was just kind of - stuck. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he'd kinda had the breath knocked out of him a little. Rachel had always been an amazing singer, there were no surprises there. And he knew she was a talented actress as well. He just wasn't quite prepared for the _presence _she would have. The Rachel Berry he had just spent two and a half hours watching owned that theater and everyone in it. She was nothing like the lonely, insecure girl he used to throw slushies at. She did bear some resemblance to the confident, determined young woman he had become friends with and graduated high school with, but this new, fully grown Rachel put even her to shame.

When the theater was empty save for the ushers making their way up the aisles, Puck finally got up to leave. Part of him felt silly as he made his way out to the side exit to wait with the middle-aged women and obviously gay men, but another part reminded him that he was badass. If anyone could make it cool to stagedoor (and yeah, he just got the stupid term that the kid at the box office used), it was Puck. Besides, he wasn't just some starstruck fanboy (although yeah, he did feel just a little starstruck) trying to get a glimpse at Broadway star Rachel Berry. He was Puck, and he just wanted to say hey to his old pal Berry. Maybe he brought a bouquet of those big pink and white lilies that look like stars. Just a friendly gesture – no big.

Puck positioned himself near the end of the line, hoping he might get more of a chance to actually, like, _talk_ to her that way. Even though he couldn't see her through the crowd ('cause she certainly hadn't gotten any _taller _in the past 10 years), he knew when Rachel emerged from the theater. The low murmur of the fans rose to a dull roar as Rachel Berry made her way down the line, signing autographs and accepting flowers and other gifts before passing them off to the (very large) man at her side.

By the time she had made it halfway down the line, Rachel's head pretty much stayed down, her eyes darting up to look through her lashes with a smile as she made a few seconds' worth of small talk with each fan while scrawling her name across the playbills. When she reached Puck, about six people from the end of the line, she kept her eyes on the playbill he handed her as the pen flowed over the paper.

"And who should I make it out to?" She was just finishing up her signature (metaphorical) star as she asked the question and hadn't yet looked up from the paper.

"Just write, 'To the badass Puckerone.'"

The pen jerked to a halt and Rachel's eyes flew to Puck's face just before the pen fell out of her hands altogether.

"Noah!"

At that moment, Puck thanked God for his quick reflexes. Rachel launched herself at him, seemingly oblivious to the crowd around them and the fact that she still had fans awaiting her attention.

"When … How … Why …" Puck laughed as Rachel pushed herself away from him, shaking her head and struggling to find the words she wanted. Finally, she took a step back and disentangled her arms from his, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her summer dress. "What brings you here, Noah?"

He just shrugged as he presented the bouquet that he only barely managed to keep her from crushing when she flew at him. "I was in the neighborhood," he smirked.

Rachel took the flowers from him and buried her nose in one before speaking again. "Are you busy? I mean, do you have some time?"

"For you babe, I got all the time in the world." It was dark, so he couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure he saw her blush.

"Wait for me outside the box office. Don't. Go. Anywhere." She punctuated each word with a quick poke to his chest. He backed out of the crowd, offering her a mock salute, and walked back toward the front of the building. He couldn't help but smirk when he glanced back over his shoulder to see that, unlike all the others, which had been quickly handed off, the bouquet he had given Rachel was cradled in her left arm as she signed autographs with her right.

Puck smiled when Rachel came skipping – literally – around the corner, flowers still in hand. "You were amazing." He spoke close to her ear when she threw her arms around his neck for another, much _gentler _hug. When she pulled back, he could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "Hey," he tilted her face up, palm gently cupping her chin, and frowned a little as he studied her expression, "you okay?"

"No," she laughed a little and swiped at her eyes with her free hand. "I mean, yes, I'm just …" she reached out and squeezed his bicep. "It's just really great to see you." She smiled almost hesitantly, then brightened. "I know you said you have time, but how much? I mean, have you eaten? We could grab a late dinner, if you want. Or there's a great little café just a couple blocks away. They have wonderful coffee, and they even have some vegan-friendly pie options. Oh!" she said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, "Maybe you would prefer drinks. I mean, I don't drink a lot but -,"

"Coffee and pie is fine," he cut her off with a grin.

"Okay," she smiled back at him sheepishly. "Well, I have a vase in my dressing room. Let me just take care of these," she held the flowers out to him, "then we'll be on our way. I'll be sure to take them home tomorrow." She fingered a petal absent-mindedly. "They'll look lovely in my living room. They're perfect for the end table by the window." Puck nodded and started to fall into step with her but she stopped him with a hand to his forearm. "No need. You stay here; I'll be right back."

"But," he frowned at her as she continued to walk away.

"No, it's fine, really. Marcus, one of the security guards, always hangs around by the door until everyone is gone, and I _know _Linda hasn't left yet."

~.~

"No way, I don't believe it. You're gettin' swindled Rach, cause there is _no way _that pie is vegan." Puck nearly moaned as he took another bite of Rachel's banana crème pie. (And if it really was vegan, which, no way in hell, how could they call it banana _crème_?)

"I promise." She grinned smugly back at him. "I've even seen the dairy substitute myself. I was as skeptical as you are the first time."

Puck didn't continue to argue, but he did push his own slice of chocolate pie aside when she gently nudged the rest of her banana crème toward him.

"I meant it before, ya know," Puck spoke around his last mouthful of Rachel's pie. "You really were amazing." She smiled brightly at him. "You _look_ amazing, too." Rachel blushed furiously and shook her head a little, ducking it and taking a sip of her coffee. "Seriously. Prob'ly better right now than you did in the show, even. I mean, without the costume and make-up and everything – just _you._"

"Thank you, Noah." Rachel was still blushing, but she lifted her eyes to meet his again. "You look quite good yourself." Her eyes roamed over his face then down to study his chest and arms.

Puck snorted. "Right. Look Rach, I know you're like, the queen of good manners or whatever, but let's get real here. You look just the same as the last time I saw ya. Hell prob'ly better, if that's possible. I look _old._"

"Noah," she sighed and shook her head, "you're 28."

"I know how old I _am._ I said I _look _old. You're just a few months behind me, and your face is flawless. I. Look. Old." He punctuated the statement by scrubbing a hand over his face as if to emphasize the creases beginning to form.

"Noah, look at me," Rachel's right hand crossed the distance between them, pulling his hand away from his face and pinning it to the table as her left hand lifted to his forehead, fingertips just skimming the faint lines they found there. "You don't look old. You look like you've lived." Her hand fell a bit and her fingers ghosted over the slight crow's feet at the corner of his right eye. "You look like you've had to work and scrape for everything you've gotten." His eyes fell closed as she dropped her hand again to let her thumb outline his lips and trace over the small, fresh wrinkles that were no doubt a result of the constant smirk he had worn for as long as either of them could remember. "You look like you've spent your whole life proving people wrong and fighting for what you deserve." She smiled, letting her hand linger by his mouth. "But you don't look old. You look strong, and brave, and wonderful."

Puck cleared his throat. He wasn't sure how to react to what she had said, or to the fact that she was still touching him. So, he didn't. He opened his eyes and sat stock-still, staring at an invisible spot on the table between them. After a few seconds, when she moved her hand and his eyes were drawn to the movement, he snapped out of it, his eyes focusing on her left hand until it disappeared under the table. "So … Berry. Is that like, a stage name?"

"No." She shot him a small smile. "Legal. Finn and I broke up a couple years after graduation. It was amicable, thankfully, but a separation nonetheless."

He knew that. It wasn't hard to figure out when Finn had shown back up in Lima, alone, after being in New York for only two years. But eight years is a long time. Puck didn't think it was unreasonable to believe that she could have found someone new to share her life and her name with in that time.

"And since then, well," she shrugged as if it was really no big deal to her one way or the other, though that was hard for him to believe. "I just haven't been that close to anyone. Romantically, I mean. And what about you, Noah, do you have a wife waiting for you back in Lima? I mean, I would hope if you do have one that you haven't left her back in a hotel room for the past several hours."

The defensive part of him wanted to ask why she automatically assumed he still lived in Lima, but then he remembered that, while he rarely spoke to them, he saw her dads most Saturdays at temple. The smart ass part of him wanted to point out that if he had brought a wife with him to New York, leaving her in a hotel while he came to Rachel's show probably wouldn't be any worse than holding her hand across a cool metal diner table, which he had been doing for the past several minutes. But he thought if he mentioned it, she might pull away, and he had to admit that he liked the way it felt to have her little hand resting on top of his.

"Nah. Haven't taken that leap. Kinda came close once," he lifted one shoulder, hoping to convince her that he wasn't upset about it and didn't need, like, consoling or whatever. "But it fell through before we got all the way."

"I'm sorry, Noah." Rachel furrowed her brows and squeezed his fingers a little in her own. "I don't want to pry, of course, but if you want to talk about it, I hope you'll remember that I'm a very good listener."

He did remember. "Not much to talk about, really. It was a few years ago. We'd been dating for a few months, sure as hell wasn't true love or soul mate material or nothin'." He scoffed a little. "Then we had a scare. Ya know, the Beth kind," he added when her head tilted a little to one side. "I couldn't do that shit again, so I convinced myself we'd be good together eventually and that it was all worth it for the baby I thought was in her belly. Bought a ring and everything." He chuckled darkly. "But then, there was no baby after all. I mean," he added quickly when Rachel gasped, "she didn't like, Terri Schuester me or anything. It only lasted a couple months, maybe not even that, then she tried to tell me she lost it, but she couldn't pull _that one_ off. So then _I _lost it and said some pretty shitty things, even under the circumstances, and we haven't spoken since. Kept the ring in my glove box for a good six months 'till one day I was in Cleveland seein' some bands and I drove over Lake Erie just to throw the damn thing in."

Puck was used to getting all kinds of reactions at that point in the story. There was the obvious pity that was to be expected in such a case. There was more than a little judgment for his behavior in the whole thing. And he had seen pretty much every emotion between the two at least once.

Rachel only nodded. "That sounds very cathartic. Expensive, but cathartic. And sometimes the monetary cost is well worth the emotional payoff. So," she smiled brightly, "how long are you in town? I mean, I can take you around, show you some of my favorite places, if you would like. Is your hotel near here?"

Puck relaxed into the booth. Telling people that story never really left him feeling all that great, but then, Rachel Berry wasn't exactly 'people.' At least, not in the common, overly general sense of the word. And he didn't know how she knew exactly when to change the subject, but the change was very welcome. "Uhh … Indefinitely, sounds cool – if you're up to it – and not really." He watched her eyes roll back a little as she nodded her head, ticking off his answers and matching them to her questions in her mind.

"Okay," she drawled, once she had the information straight in her head, "I'm not sure what 'indefinitely' means, of course I'm up to it – I would _love _to spend some time showing you around my city – and where is 'not really'?"

Puck smirked. "'Indefinitely' means I don't really plan on leavin', it'd be pretty awesome to have somebody who knows what they're doin' give me some pointers, and the Bronx, I think."

Rachel's breath left her in a huff. "Can we speak in complete sentences now? I have far too much to say to that to continue this silliness."

Puck grinned and ducked his head a bit before nodding for her to continue.

"Alright then. Well, I am really quite curious to know what brings you here indefinitely, possibly even permanently, but I'll save those questions for later. And since that is the case, and I believe you will need my assistance even more than I had previously thought, I now proclaim myself to be your official guide to all things New York. With me on your side, it will be no time at all before you're being mistaken for a real New Yorker." Rachel wrinkled her nose a bit, "Except for your accent. But I wouldn't want that to change. Your voice is lovely as it is, singing and otherwise." Puck smirked at the blush that crept up her neck and over her face. "And finally, no. You're not staying in the Bronx."

"Umm, yeah, I'm pretty sure I am." He chuckled and nodded. "I mean, I know I'm the new guy in _your _city, but you don't even know where the motel _is_. I think I might know a bit more about this one than you do."

"Of course," she waved her left hand flippantly, the right one making no move to leave its resting place atop his, "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise. What I meant was, starting tonight, that is no longer where you're staying. _Especially _now that you have said the word 'motel.'" He had to grin at her dramatic little shudder. "It's probably even worse than what I was imagining."

"Look Rach, I'm not broke, exactly. I mean, I didn't leave Ohio with empty pockets or anything, but I didn't know how long it was gonna take me to find a job, and even though I found one today, I got no clue how long it will take me to find a place to actually _live._ So, this place is basically clean, and as far as I can tell, it's safe enough, so as much as I appreciate your offer to show me to some nice, 5-star place or whatever, it just makes more sense for me to stay where I am." Puck squirmed a little in his seat. It wasn't easy for him to show weakness or admit vulnerability or whatever the hell it was he just did with that little speech.

"Oh Noah," Rachel sighed and shook her head a little, her eyes fluttering closed for a second before she continued, "I should not find myself even a little surprised that you automatically jumped to the defensive. But that isn't what I was suggesting, at all. I'm not one to spend someone else's money. What I was _actually _suggesting," her fingers began to trace over the back of his hand distractedly as she spoke, "was that you should – you _will _– come stay with me." She shook her head, holding up her free hand to cut him off when he opened his mouth to argue, "I have more than enough room and I could not consider myself a decent friend, I would never forgive myself, in fact, if I didn't share that with you while I have the opportunity."

"Look," he sat up straighter in the seat and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair, "I appreciate the offer Rach, really. But I don't wanna, like-,"

"Impose? Intrude? Get in the way? Whatever it is, Noah, forget about it. You won't do any of those things, trust me. You said you already have a job, and I seriously doubt that your work schedule will match up to mine, so I'm sure we won't possibly get in each other's way. I'll let you take care of your own food – which should end up being much better for you than whatever you would be eating if you stayed in that place, since you will have not only unlimited access to my kitchen, but also increased funds due to the fact that you will not be paying for a room – and I'm sure that I won't even see a change in my utility bills with you there." Rachel stood from the table, twining her fingers with his and tugging him from his seat on the other side of the booth. "I insist, Noah," her voice was softer, showing some vulnerability of her own as she looked up at him, "I want to do this. Please let me."

Puck sighed, his head dropping until his chin hit his chest, and squeezed Rachel's hand for just a second. "Look Rachel, I appreciate the offer. You have no idea. But I don't want you to think that I looked you up tonight to get something from you. You get that, right?" He watched as she nodded. "And I don't want either of us to let this go from you helping an old friend to me taking advantage of an old friend. We clear?"

Rachel nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course Noah. I understand completely. Going only off of what you have told me since we've been here, I have to imagine that you have come to New York to have independence, to break out in some way, and I wouldn't dare take that away from you. I just want to be a good friend to you."

When Rachel smiled up at him sheepishly through her lashes, Puck almost took a step back. Since the moment he'd seen her picture on that poster, he'd seen nothing except Rachel Berry bluster and confidence. He had almost forgotten that somewhere in there, even if she was tiny and buried incredibly deep, was a scared, insecure girl who had spent half her life being bullied and defending her right to have big dreams.

"Fine," Puck laughed under his breath when Rachel squeezed his hand between both of her own and bounced on the balls of her feet. "But I mean it Berry, soon as I start to like, interrupt your life, or as soon as I can find a place of my own, whichever comes first, I'm outta there." He ducked his head and regarded her seriously.

"Yes, of course," she grinned widely. "We'll go get your things right now and you'll come to my place. And it will absolutely be temporary, of course."

_**I may not have the softest touch  
>I may not say the words as such<br>And though I may not look like much  
>I'm yours<br>And though my edges may be rough  
>I never feel I'm quite enough<br>It may not seem like very much  
>But I'm yours<strong>_

It wasn't temporary.

When they left the diner, Rachel dragged Puck to the nearest subway station (and he was really thankful she was with him at that moment, because if she hadn't been, he would probably have walked all the way back to Times Square) and made him direct them back to his motel. Once there, she proceeded to send Puck up to his room to get his things while she argued with the night manager about consumers' rights and taking advantage of out-of-town customers who don't know better until she pointed to a young couple climbing the stairs and mentioned the words "pay-by-the-hour establishment." The man quickly agreed that, though it was well past check-out (about 12 hours past, actually), Puck really only needed to pay for the one night he had actually slept in the room. Puck caught most of the exchange from his spot by the door where he waited, luggage in hand, and was equal parts impressed and terrified, and honestly a little turned on.

_("You know, you were right," she told him once they were buckled into his truck and headed back toward Manhattan and her apartment, "that place really wasn't that bad, all things considered."_

"_Really? 'Cause I was waitin' on you to go after that prostitute and tell her how immoral and, like, __**dirty**_ _she was."_

"_Oh Noah," she actually giggled, "she wasn't a prostitute. They were tourists. Kentucky or Tennessee, if I had to guess. Maybe Georgia."_

"_Seriously? Then how come they didn't get the riot act about stayin' there?"_

"_They are a young couple trying to enjoy New York, probably for the first time. I couldn't bear to take that away from them. And I only have one guest room, so it was either you or them. Would you like me to go back?"_

"_I'm good.")_

Their first two days as (not) temporary roommates was spent getting reacquainted with one another and getting Puck acquainted with the city and his new neighborhood (which just so happened to include The Band House – hells yeah!) between Rachel's shows. She showed him to her favorite restaurants, both fully vegan and vegan-friendly, the hole-in-the-wall coffee place that she claimed was the best in the city, and the deli that he had managed to find on his own the day before. They spent most of the time that Rachel wasn't working or playing tour guide sprawled out on her couch sharing details about the past ten years of each of their lives. Although the time wasn't spent void of all physical contact (it was much easier to let her guide him through the city streets with her arm looped through his, and after her two shows on Saturday, Rachel swore that if Puck's conscience ever nagged him about staying with her rent-free he need only come find her to put his "magic fingers" to use giving her another foot rub), it was spent pretty innocently – exactly what would be expected of two old friends after a long separation.

On day three, Puck was surprised to emerge from the guest bathroom to the smell of coffee. He'd already been in bed when Rachel came home Sunday night (Monday morning) but he vaguely remembered stirring to look at the clock when he heard her bedroom door click softly closed. It was nearly one. So for her to pull herself out of bed at five to make coffee for him was more than he expected, even from Rachel Berry. And then he was just plain shocked when he came down the hall to see her curled up on the chaise end of the couch, one hand resting on the arm and curled around a mug of her own, the other clutching her Kindle.

"Good morning, Noah." She sat the Kindle onto the cushion next to her and smiled up at him over her cup, seemingly unfazed by the fact that the only thing covering his upper body was the towel draped across his shoulders. "Pink is definitely your color," she giggled and narrowed her eyes a little, still not lowering the coffee.

Puck grabbed the ends of the towel where they hung down onto his chest, not exactly sure what he planned to do with them. "Yeah, uhh, it was on top. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be up. I'll just -," he started to turn back toward the hall and the guest room at the end of it.

"Don't be silly." He turned his head just in time to catch Rachel standing from the couch and shaking her head at him. "I'm a big girl, Noah, I can stand the sight of a man's bare chest. Even one as lovely as yours."

Was Rachel Berry seriously like, checking him out?

"So," he only shook his head at what he thought might have been mischief in Rachel's expression and followed her into the kitchen, "you always come in at one in the mornin' and get back up before five?" He gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that was extended toward him.

"No," Rachel turned to unplug the coffee pot and push it back to its spot against the wall, "on both counts." She took a sip of her coffee and watched, pleased, as he moaned appreciatively when he took a drink of his own. "I usually come straight home from the theater, but since the lights of Broadway are dark on Mondays, the cast and crew often go out after our Sunday show. As you know, I'm not a big drinker, but on those nights I usually indulge in a drink or two and enjoy the company of my co-workers."

Puck held his coffee cup in front of his mouth to hide the grin that her avalanche of words caused, 'cause even after all this time, she couldn't just say, 'Went out for drinks with the guys.'

"And as far as getting up," Rachel turned to set her cup on the counter and shrugged. "I wanted to see you off on your first day of work – you know, to wish you well and everything. Of course, that would have worked better if I had thought to find out what time you planned to wake up. Or leave." She ducked her head when Puck chuckled. "But luckily, I heard you moving around in the bathroom."

"Sorry 'bout that," Puck winced a little, but Rachel only waved him off.

"Don't be. Like I said, I wanted to be up. Okay," she pulled the mug from his hands and turned him toward the bedrooms, "I may be able to handle you shirtless, but I don't know that the rest of New York, specifically your new boss and his customers, will take it as well." Puck laughed as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

~.~

On day six, Puck stumbled out of the bathroom with toothpaste film still in his mouth, tugging his shirt up onto his arms and fumbling with the buttons.

By sheer accident, he had still been awake when Rachel got home the night before. So far, he'd been really good – really _responsible _– about going to bed at an appropriate time for his 4:45 wake-up call, but that night he just couldn't fall asleep. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but whatever the issue was, it meant he was on the couch with a beer when Rachel came in. Her being home didn't make it any easier to go to sleep, since she dropped onto the couch next to him, took a long draw from his beer, and began telling him how many things had gone wrong for her that evening. Around one, with Puck sprawled on the chaise and clutching Rachel's tiny feet in his lap, and Rachel laying the length of the couch, both finally fell asleep. If it hadn't been for Rachel's pea-sized bladder and the two and a half beers she had consumed while pouring out her heart, he probably wouldn't have woken up for another several hours. As it was, he'd only had about 15 minutes to get ready for work, from shower to shoes.

Puck was still fighting with his shirt, having fastened the buttons incorrectly the first time around, when he got to the front door and stopped to shove his feet in his shoes. He had the door cracked, one hand on the knob and the other trying to fix the heel of one of his sneakers, when Rachel emerged from the kitchen with a travel mug in her hand.

"Thought you might need this." She handed the mug over to him and watched as he took a careful sip. "Sorry about keeping you up last night. I feel truly awful."

"Don't worry 'bout it. Couldn't sleep before you got home anyway. Besides, been here almost a week, about time to pay the rent, I guess." He winked and Rachel giggled, blushing slightly pink.

"Noah, wait." He had one foot out the door when she called out to him. He stopped, and when he turned to face her, she was only inches from him. "Just let me …" she pushed up onto her tip-toes and reached until her arms encircled his neck. He was about to ask her what she was doing when he felt her fingers tug at his collar. She worked her way around to the front, gently straightening and flattening the plaid fabric as she went. "There, much better." She patted his shoulders twice, but instead of backing away, she pushed herself a little higher and kissed his cheek gently, her lips lingering for just a second. "Have a good day." She finally backed away, swiping her thumb over his cheek to collect any sheer lip gloss, which was somehow still on her lips when she woke up (he remembered thinking she could do one of those lipstick commercials), that had rubbed off with the kiss.

~.~

She kissed him again on day 10.

The first thing he had pulled out of his drawer that morning after his shower was, not surprisingly, a plaid button-down. He didn't bother buttoning it, since leaving it open afforded him a much greater range of motion at work, and between reaching for things in both high and low storage areas and giving lessons, that range was valuable. And he may have noticed, when he passed the mirror over the dresser on his way out, that his collar was flipped up on one side. It was no big deal, really. He just figured Rachel would fix it if she noticed, you know, being a girl and having an eye for that sort of thing and all. And if she didn't notice, he'd just fix it in the elevator. The walls were basically a mirror anyway.

She noticed.

She came out of the kitchen when she heard him coming down the hall. She didn't even wait for him to reach her, setting a black travel mug full of fresh, hot coffee (the same one she'd provided him with the previous Friday, after he told her how nice it was to have it to take with him on Thursday) on the small table just inside the door where he dropped her mail when he came in every evening and where they both left their keys. When he reached her, she pushed up as close to his level as she could get, and, without saying a word, rested her left hand on his right shoulder for balance and reached around his neck with her right. She straightened the collar, but didn't let go when she got to the front. Instead, she used it to pull herself up, pulling him down in the process. But she didn't kiss him on the cheek again. And it wasn't even the kind of soft, timid kiss he would have expected – _if _he had expected her to kiss him on the mouth at all. No, this was the kind of kiss where he could tell not only what flavor lip gloss she was wearing (something peachy), but also what kind of non-dairy creamer she had used in her coffee that morning (cinnamon-vanilla). After about a .2 second delay, he kissed back, and he was really glad she had set the coffee down instead of handing it to him, because that meant he had both hands free to grab her hips and hold her to him.

After several seconds, or minutes, it was kind of impossible to tell, to be honest, Rachel loosened her grip on his shirt, and after another few seconds Puck let go of her hips, letting his hands just rest there instead of holding on. "You'll be home when I get back from work?" he asked when she took a step back.

"It's Monday," she nodded, reaching for his coffee and passing it off to him.

"I'll bring dinner." Puck accepted his coffee with one hand and dropped the other to pat her backside.

~.~

On night 10, Puck slept in a bed outside Rachel's guest room for the first time since that first night in the Bronx. On the plus side, the bed was in Rachel's master bedroom.

Now, here's the deal, in case it wasn't already completely obvious, Puck changed. He grew up – a lot – after high school. So he didn't think that one (great, awesome, really hot) kiss meant that he would come home that evening and Rachel would just fall into bed with him. Hell, he wouldn't have thought that even in high school – not with Rachel, anyway. But he brought home dinner as promised from one of the vegan-friendly restaurants she had shown him during that first weekend he was in the city, and when they'd finished eating she asked if he wanted to watch a movie. He agreed, but instead of leading him to the couch, where they spent most of their weekend, Rachel disappeared into her bedroom.

"Coming, Noah?"

He must have spaced out, because he was still hovering over the trashcan where he had just dropped their take-out containers when her voice floated down the hall and grabbed his attention.

"On my way." Puck stepped into the guest room along the way to kick off his shoes and shed his button-down, tossing it onto the dresser instead of putting it away. "Sorry," he started on his way into the room, "I got … distracted."

"It's okay." She smiled up at him from her spot on the bed, propped up by a stack of pillows resting against the headboard. "Hey," her brow furrowed, "go change. Get comfortable."

Puck really looked at her outfit for the first time since coming home. Rachel looked plenty comfortable in the cotton shorts and slightly oversized t-shirt she had probably put on straight from her shower that morning. One of the things she had told him about herself was that, since Monday was often her only day off, she tried to not even leave the apartment if it wasn't necessary. He kinda loved that grown-up Rachel was so comfortable just being herself – no make-up, simple clothes, no fancy hair – with him.

"Just hurry!" Her voice carried across the hall, "I figure we've got just enough time for the movie before you fall asleep on me!"

Puck chuckled under his breath at her demand as he slid off his jeans and stepped into a pair of basketball shorts. He considered shedding his t-shirt – she did tell him to get comfortable – but decided not to push his luck.

Rachel figured right. Literally and almost scarily so. Less than five minutes after the movie ended, as she was flipping through the channels absent-mindedly, Rachel felt his first snore before she actually heard it. Puck's head rested on her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist as he used her as his own personal pillow. She gently nudged him onto an actual pillow and slid down into the bed, turning into him when, instead of releasing her, he wrapped his arms a little tighter around her in his sleep.

~.~

On day 11, Puck woke not to his alarm, but to Rachel calling his name and rubbing her fingers gently over his scalp. "Morning, sleepyhead," she grinned down at him from her seat on the edge of the bed when his eyes focused on her. "I hope you don't mind, I let you sleep in about 10 extra minutes. But I've already started the coffee. And some oatmeal. I even got maple syrup the other day. And I turned on the bathroom heater a little while ago."

"'S cool," he mumbled hoarsely, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He reached for her wrist when she nodded and rose off the bed. "I mean," he started when she turned back toward him, "thanks. I just … you don't gotta do all that, ya know. Take care 'a me, I mean. You're doin' enough by givin' me a bed to sleep in." He chuckled. "'Specially when it's yours."

Rachel only shrugged. "I wanted to do it. All of it." She bent, one hand on either side of his waist, to kiss his forehead.

Puck lifted a hand to run through her hair as Rachel pressed her lips to his forehead, and when she started to pull away, he used that same hand to pull her back until her lips met his own. He tugged gently on her bottom lip and slid his hand around to her cheek before letting her go. "I'm glad." He just hoped her idea of 'all of it' was the same as his.

Apparently, day 11 was also the day that Puck officially moved out of the guest bedroom and into the master. Rachel was already gone when he got home from work, as usual, but she left him a note on the hall table, also as usual. However, unlike her usual, "Dinner's in the oven," or, "Didn't cook today, sorry," ('cause her whole him fending for himself food-wise thing lasted like, a day before she just started doubling everything she made, usually leaving him tips on how to make it 'carnivore-friendly') or even the simple, "Have a wonderful evening!" that she left when she had nothing in particular to tell him, her note that day informed him that she had spent her morning doing laundry, including all the clothes in his hamper and the bedding from the guest bed. She went on to explain that all of his clothes had been neatly put away in the closet and dresser in the guest room, except his pajamas (he assumed she meant the basketball shorts and t-shirt he'd worn the night before, since he didn't own actual pajamas, and he'd spent every night in the guest room in just his underwear), which were folded and waiting for him in 'his' bathroom. Finally, the note ended by saying that the bedding was still in the dryer but that he shouldn't worry about it because she'd take care of it later.

A quick survey of the apartment showed him that everything the note had said was true. And he was left to assume, based on the fact that she hadn't replaced the bedding in the guest room, that she didn't mean for him to sleep in there. He wanted that to be enough for him to feel comfortable going straight to Rachel's room when the time came that he would normally be going to bed, but it wasn't. He'd been burned by assumptions – even what should be really solid ones (when the good little Christian girl gives you her virginity, it means something; when that same girl gets pregnant after just that one time, she'll finally let you in; when another girl comes along eight years later and knows the whole fucked up story and then says _she's_ pregnant, surely to God she must really be) too many times. So he got comfortable watching a _How I Met Your Mother _marathon on Nick at Nite, nodding off until Rachel came in just after 11 with a gentle tug on his hand and a soft, "Come on, Noah, let's go to bed."

~.~

On night 24, Puck and Rachel laid in bed, Rachel on her stomach, feet cutting casually through the air behind her and her Kindle resting on the pillow in front of her, and Puck on his back, one hand behind his head and the other tangled in Rachel's hair, television remote resting on his bare stomach. Puck loved Mondays because, while he and Rachel had slept together every night since that first time she invited him in for a movie, Mondays were generally the only nights they actually got to go to bed together. Even a badass (hell, probably _especially _a badass) preferred going to sleep with a beautiful woman wrapped in his arms.

"Rach," he started, not entirely confident about what he was getting ready to say, but positive that it needed to be said, preferably before he got in too deep to dig himself out if her response wasn't what he needed it to be (although, honestly, it was probably already too late for that). He waited for her hum, although she didn't lift her head from her book, to continue. "Are you sure about this? Us, I mean. Are you positive you want all this?"

"Are you not?"

Puck had expected the question, or some form of it. Seriously, even if she was way more secure and way less high-maintenance than her high school self, those words out of the mouth of the guy you were sharing a bed with were pretty much a guaranteed way to set any girl off. What he hadn't expected was the calm way she asked it, or the fact that she didn't even look up from her Kindle until she had, apparently, finished her page.

"I mean," Rachel continued when Puck didn't answer right away, "I know I never exactly asked, more or less just telling you what to do – or where to sleep. I just figured, based on what I've always known of you, that you would speak up if you wanted something different."

"No, this is definitely what I want." Puck let his fingers slide through her hair then slid that same hand under her chest to pull her to him, waiting until she had settled almost fully on top of him to continue. "I just … It's fast, Rach. And I don't want you to think it's too fast, or that you've made a mistake."

"I'm not that girl anymore, Noah," she lifted a hand and traced his jaw with her fingertips, watching the movement for a few seconds before she continued. "I'm not high school Rachel Berry who thinks everything has to be perfect for her all the time, laid out exactly according to her plan. I'm more confident now, authentically so, not the kind of superficial confidence that makes me feel like I have to throw myself in everyone's face. And I'm more than willing to work for what I want," she shifted and ran the back of her hand over his cheek and down his neck until it rested in the crook of his shoulder, "but I refuse to play games. I won't say that I've fixed every negative thing about myself from when we were younger; I'm still loud, sometimes demanding, and often overly ambitious, but I know I've grown. So," she smiled sheepishly and curled her hand around his neck to tickle the hairs at the back with her fingertips, "are you still sure that this is what _you _want, even with the reminder that I'm still as high maintenance as ever, but yet not exactly the girl you remembered, and possibly hoped to reconnect with?"

"Let me make this clear, Rach," she watched him with wide eyes as Puck rolled his own and lifted a hand from her back to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're not the problem here. I _know_ I want you, but I don't want you to wake up one day and look at me and think, 'what the hell am I doin' with this asshole who used to slushie me on a regular basis and generally made my high school life miserable.'"

Rachel pushed herself up with one hand, using the one still wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him forward and kiss him softly. "Oh Noah," she breathed against his lips before lowering herself back onto his chest, folding her hands and dropping her chin onto them. "When are you going to get it?" She smiled almost sadly up at his confused expression. "You're not that boy. You haven't been for years. You are a strong, mature, responsible, _good _man. You take care of your family – don't think I don't know about the money you send your mom every week. You stuck around Lima for years longer than you wanted to because you needed to be sure about what you were doing instead of jumping into something headfirst. And you've been here with me for over three weeks, and every second of that time you've only reinforced how much I love being with you and how wonderful you make me feel." Puck wrapped his arms tighter around her and craned his neck down to kiss the top of her head. "So Noah, we've both changed – grown – over the past 10 years. But over the past three weeks, I've been happier than any other time I can remember. And that's because of you. Because you're mine."

~.~

_A/N 2: Part II coming soon, I promise._


	18. I'm Yours, part II

"**I'm Yours" – The Script (part II)**

_**You healed these scars over time  
>Embraced my soul you loved my mind<br>You're the only angel in my life  
>The day news came my best friend died<br>My knees went week and you saw me cry  
>Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes<strong>_

On day 47, Puck said 'I love you' for the first time. Like, ever.

Rachel had taken to coming to spend his break with him once or twice a week. At first, he felt like he was putting her out in some way (because Lord knows she'd already done more than enough for him), but she argued that a late lunch fit perfectly into her schedule. Besides, he learned very quickly that it was pointless to try to argue with her about anything at all. She did reassure him that she only came by on days when she was already out of the house anyway. He wasn't entirely sure she wasn't just saying that to placate him, but he enjoyed their lunches too much to say any more about it.

Most days, through a quick text exchange, they simply agreed on a meeting place somewhere near The Band House and by the time he got there, a drink would be waiting for him and she would have already ordered his lunch. On day 47, she showed up with an honest-to-God picnic basket and said she thought maybe he would like to go to Central Park instead. He would have taken one look at her and laughed at how lame and childish the whole thing was, if he wasn't too busy finding her absolutely fucking adorable in her little sundress and sandals, hair falling over her shoulders and wide eyes staring at him all big and hopeful like she actually thought he might say no.

"Yo, Matthew," the sulky teen looked up at him from behind the counter, "tell the old man I went out for my break. Be back about …" Puck looked up at the clock over the kid's head, "3:30. My first appointment's at four." Matthew only shrugged and dropped his eyes back to his phone, but not before giving Rachel a none-too-subtle once-over. "Little prick," Puck mumbled, throwing an arm possessively around Rachel's shoulders and planting a kiss on her temple.

"Noah," she chastised, whacking his stomach with the back of her hand. "He's your boss's grandson."

"And?" Puck sighed and rolled his eyes, back-tracking to wrap an arm around her waist and take the picnic basket out of her hands with the other when she stopped just outside the store to look at him reproachfully. "Ain't kin to _me_. 'Sides," he smirked when she looked up at him incredulously, "Abe likes me better anyway." Rachel crossed her now-free hands over her chest and cocked her head to one side, regarding him skeptically. "Don't worry babe," he leaned in to kiss her pursed lips, "I'm nothin' but nice," she snorted, "ok, _civil, _to his face."

"Promise?"

"'Course, Rach. I gotta good thing goin' here. Not plannin' to screw it up over some 18-year-old, sulkier, less hot version 'a me." He squeezed her hip and got her moving again, guiding them toward the park.

Matthew was already gone by the time Puck got back to the store and Abe was sitting behind the counter on a stool that he forbid both Puck and Matthew to sit on, telling them they hadn't lived long enough to earn the right to sit down on the job. "Well kid, you sure work fast."

"What's that, old man?" Puck let the door close behind him with a tinkle of the signal bell, craning his neck a little to get a last peek at Rachel, swinging her little basket and bouncing along on the balls of her feet, before she rounded the corner toward their apartment. "Think you need to readjust your dentures," Puck smirked and gestured to his own mouth, "you're babblin' again."

"Watch it, kid." Abe pointed at him and scowled _almost _menacingly. "These pearly whites are all natural. Now, I can arrange for _you_ to get some dentures, if you want." He shook a fist playfully in Puck's direction.

Puck would never say it out loud, of course – neither man would want that – but he kind of loved his relationship with Abe. Less than a week into the job, the two had fallen into an easy, playful banter that made the time at work feel like anything but.

"And you know what I'm talking about." Abe tipped his head toward the door and the sidewalk outside, where Puck had just shared parting words and a gentle kiss goodbye with Rachel. "You told me in the beginning you came up here alone, so I guess you found somebody new awful quick."

Puck ducked his head and smiled to himself as he made his way to the back corner of the store to set up for his first lesson of the day. "I found Rachel all right, but I wouldn't call 'er _new_." He looked over his shoulder to see that Abe had left his stool and was standing only a few feet behind him, one eyebrow cocked expectantly. Puck heaved a deep breath and turned to face his boss, dropping onto the chair he used when he taught. "We went to high school together. We were friends," he lifted one shoulder, "kinda seemed like we coulda been more a couple times." Puck chuckled a little under his breath. "Then she went and got her shit together about 10 years faster'n me."

Abe laughed openly. "Yeah, well, ya figured it out eventually, I guess. Looks like you did a pretty good job too." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as if Rachel were still just outside the door. "She's cute."

"Yeah," Puck snorted, "screw you, old man. My girl's smokin'."

"My apologies," the older man chuckled. "Jewish, too, if the radar hasn't fizzled out in my old age."

Yeah, so by some stroke of fate – or coincidence, seeing as New York City has the highest Jewish population of any city in the world – Puck came into the city and strolled right into a little music store owned by the coolest little old Jewish dude, like, ever. Abe and his wife had already invited Puck to spend Hanukkah with them, insisting that he at least had to come by for the last night because, 'no one should be alone on the eighth night of Hanukkah.' It was September.

He had no doubt the invitation had just been automatically extended to include Rachel. "Yep. Managed to land myself a nice Jewish girl."

Abe snorted. "Yeah, well, she's gotta be more than just nice to put up with you." He moved to pull up another chair for Puck's soon-to-arrive student. "What's she do, anyway? Must be somethin' good to carry your sorry behind." He didn't try to hide the amusement he got from his own joke.

"Hey," Puck leaned forward in his chair, resting an elbow on his knee and pointing accusingly at Abe, "I pull my weight."

"Yeah, thanks to me."

"Whatever," Puck lounged back into the chair, legs spread wide, one arm hanging over the back of the chair and the other laying lazily across his lap. "She's an actress. Broadway." He cut his boss off when the old man opened his mouth to say something, most likely to question the legitimacy of Rachel's career. "She's been headin' up _Mamma Mia _down at the New Amsterdam since the first of the year."

"'At's impressive," Abe nodded before breaking into a grin. "My Evie loves the shows." He shook his head a little. "Woman thinks Babs is the be-all, end-all."

Yep, Rachel definitely just scored an invite to Hanukkah with Abe and Evie. And Puck knew exactly what to get the couple. He'd talk to Rachel first chance he got about getting them a pair of tickets for sometime in December or January.

"I'm impressed with you, too." Abe reached over to pat Puck's forearm before groaning a little and pushing himself out of his chair. "You must be doing something right to get a girl like that to fall in love with you."

"I don't know about -,"

Puck stopped abruptly when Abe's open hand hit the back of his head. "Guess she still needs to teach you a thing or two. You don't argue with your elders. I know what I'm talkin' about, kid. I saw the way that girl looked at you." He shrugged at Puck's glare. "What? I'm an old man. I'm allowed to be nosy. Besides, it's my store, I can do what I want to. Anyway, I know that look. My Evie has that look. Your Rachel couldn't be more in love with you if she tried." Abe walked away just in time for the chair to be filled with Puck's first of three students for the afternoon.

Puck was pissed at himself when he left work that night. With him, it had always kinda been 'what you see is what you get.' And yeah, maybe that wasn't always the best thing, like when he was throwin' kids into dumpsters or dousing them with fire extinguishers. But at other times, like when you were paying him to do a job, it meant you knew up front exactly what to expect. That was what you paid for, and that was what you got. Only, thanks to Abe's big mouth, the three clients he'd 'taught' that night got totally screwed, and not in the good way. He just couldn't turn off his damn brain, and the only thing it wanted to think about was the idea that maybe, since Abe pointed it out, it wasn't completely ridiculous to think that Rachel loved him. But more than that, the longer his brain went in those freakin' circles, he realized it _was _ridiculous to even consider that he was anything other than completely in love with her. It was just so _easy_. Like, not that their relationship was perfect, or effortless – they each had days where he knew they were working their asses off to keep this thing they had together. But loving her? Easiest thing he'd ever done.

It kind of hit Puck – not that it was surprising, he just hadn't really thought about it before – that he'd never said 'I love you.' Not to anyone not related to him by blood, anyway. He'd felt some form of it for Quinn when she'd carried Beth, and he'd confirmed that when she'd asked just hours after Beth was born. But he never actually said the words. Then he'd thought he felt it for Shelby, even attempted (really unsuccessfully) to talk to her about it, but it turned out he'd loved Beth. And he'd loved that _Shelby _loved Beth, and that she _had _Beth, and most of all, that she was willing to share Beth with him, even for just a little while. He never even came close to saying it to his short-term fiancé, which, okay, probably should have been a big flashing neon sign when he was walking into the mall jewelry store to buy the first ring in his price range. Yeah, yeah. Hindsight. Whatever.

He wanted to be awake when Rachel came home, because now that the words were in his head, he just needed to get them out. (And some frantic, irrational part of him was almost scared that she was as impatient to hear them as he suddenly was to say them. In fact, he almost had himself convinced that if he didn't say it soon he was risking pushing her away. No one ever said love made you smarter.) But apparently, he really was officially a grown-up, if the fact that he couldn't possibly keep his eyes open past 10 (4:45 is _early_) was any indication. Of course, if he'd wanted to go to sleep early, his overworked mind would have kept him awake for hours. Life was just a bitch like that.

"Come on sleepyhead, let's get you in bed." Rachel knelt beside him on the couch, one hand curled around his neck and her fingers stroking through the hairs low on the back of his head, and murmured lowly into his ear. He grunted a little and stretched his arms over his head, letting one fall to her shoulders and curl around her little body, pulling her into his side. "No, baby," she pushed away from him. "You know how much you'll regret it if you stay here all night. You won't be able to move your neck at all tomorrow." Puck groaned but didn't fight it any farther.

He lifted his arms, signaling for her to 'help' him up, and debated pulling her right back down on top of him when she slipped her hands into his. He decided against it, though, and pushed off the couch, looping his arms around her shoulders from behind and walking with her to the bedroom.

"Good night, Noah," Rachel murmured against his temple once he was settled in the bed, facing her side and curled around the space where she normally fit. "I'll be in soon. I'm just going to make a cup of tea to settle myself before bed."

Puck hummed in agreement, letting her get almost out of reach before he started and rolled over, reaching for her and just getting his fingers around hers. "Rach?"

"Yes Noah?" She looked down at him quizzically.

His eyes were wide and more focused than they probably should be, considering he'd been asleep for the past hour or so. "I love you."

Rachel smiled softly and took a few steps forward, closing the gap that had grown between them when she started to leave the room. "I love you too." She pressed her mouth gently to the corner of his and pulled the blankets up around him.

Puck woke up on day 48 just a little fuzzy and half convinced he'd dreamed the whole 'I love you' thing. He barely even remembered how he got from the couch to the bed. So when he came down the hall to find Rachel, as usual, waiting at the door with his coffee and got that old feeling of home, along with the newer one of just how easy it was to love this woman, he was determined that he wouldn't walk out the door without being completely sure that it got said.

Rachel sat the coffee on the hall table when he reached her and lifted up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Have a good day." She tilted her head to lean into his hand when he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone.

Puck's other hand fell to her hip, squeezing it gently and pulling her body flush with his. He nudged his nose along hers before pausing, foreheads pressed together and lips centimeters apart. "I love you, Rachel."

He'd had sex more times than he could begin to count. Hell, he'd taken more virginities than he could count. He'd been present for the birth of a daughter he was forced to give away. He'd proposed, for God's sake. But right then, that felt like the most intimate moment Puck had ever had, and it scared the shit out of him.

If Rachel felt any of the weight that seemed to be bearing down on him as he waited (only a second or two, but it felt like ages) for her to respond, she didn't show it. She only smiled up at him with another one of those small, sweet smiles she seemed to have trademarked somewhere along the way and dipped her fingertips into the back of his collar, sending a chill down his spine and making his stomach clench involuntarily. "I love you too, Noah." She tilted her chin forward until her lips met his, her tongue sneaking out to tickle at his top lip then retreating before he had a chance to draw it into his mouth. She grinned at his barely audible groan of protest and pushed just a little higher onto her toes to peck the tip of his nose. "Now go," she squeezed his shoulders and backed away, "before you're late."

~.~

On day 423, Puck cried – like, out loud and with actual tears – for the first time since, well, as long as he could remember, really.

"Hey babe," Puck trudged into the apartment and kicked off his boots, nearly two and a half hours later than usual, "longest fucking day _ever_." He didn't make it more than three steps past the door before he had peeled his t-shirt from his body and was fanning himself with his undershirt. He considered stripping down to his boxer-briefs right there in the hall, but decided to wait until he got to the bathroom and could jump straight into a cool shower. "And it's almost October, shouldn't it be fall by now, for fucksakes? It's hot as _balls_ out there, Rach."

Puck wondered if maybe Rachel was in the bathroom herself. It would make sense, because she was normally at least at the end of the hall waiting for him by the time he finished turning the key in the lock. And, although they had never complained about the effectiveness of the a/c before, the past week had found the stifling late summer heat pushing its way into the apartment until it was nearly as uncomfortable inside as it was outside. He wouldn't be surprised at all to find her curled up with a book and submerged in a tub of tepid water. He just hoped it was an actual book and not her Kindle, 'cause he had a feeling he'd make quite a splash when he jumped in with her.

"Sorry I'm late," he called a little louder than before. "Know that new client I told ya about, snotty little prick?" He didn't wait for an answer; he knew she knew who he was talking about. "Guess he thinks his money is worth more than my time."

"Look, Rach," he was practically yelling at that point, because though he kept getting closer, and his voice kept getting louder, Rachel still hadn't responded. He _knew _she could hear him, so he was left to draw only one conclusion – silent treatment. "I know how late I am, but I came straight home from work. And I'm sorry for not callin', but I left -," Puck stopped cold when he got to the entryway of the living room. Rachel looked like she'd just stood from the couch, standing in front of it and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her nose and cheeks were red and puffy, and her eyes were red-rimmed, a steady stream of tears still pouring from them. Puck could see his cell phone clutched between her fingers, her knuckles white around its edges.

Five years earlier, walking into the living room to find his girlfriend holding his phone and crying would have had him throwing up his hands and saying 'fuck it.' But he wasn't worried about Rachel possibly having found some incriminating evidence on his phone that would have caused her to break down in the middle of their apartment. One – Rachel didn't snoop. Two – there was nothing to find. Seriously, he hadn't even put a passcode on the thing until a few weeks back when they'd been at a barbecue at Abe and Evie's. He'd handed the phone off to Abe's youngest grandchild – a little boy not quite two – to play with and the kid hadn't had it in his hand for five minutes before he managed to pull up some pictures of Rachel from their vacation in the Gulf that, while not exactly _dirty, _weren't exactly for public consumption either. But seriously, he had nothing to hide from his girl. He may have been a shit boyfriend to other girls in the past – undependable, sometimes unfaithful, generally just an asshole – but he'd spent the past year or so making up for all that with Rachel.

"Baby?" He quickened his steps and reached her in a second. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" Rachel shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and held the phone out to him. Puck took it from her and sat it on the end table without even looking at it. "Rachel," his voice had a frantic edge to it as he cupped her cheeks with his hands and attempted, unsuccessfully, to ebb the flow of her tears with his thumbs. "Please talk to me. Please?" He pulled her forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, waiting for her to say something.

"You left your phone at home," she finally choked out around a broken sob and a couple hiccups.

Puck nodded and tried to pull her closer, his hands sliding over her shoulders and down to her elbows, but she shrugged him off and backed away, putting a few steps' distance between them.

"I'd like you to sit down, Noah," she was still crying, but those words came out clearer than the previous ones. Puck only shook his head at her, waiting for her to continue. "Sarah called," she stuttered the words and the tears started to flow heavily again. "And you know I don't -," she stopped to wipe her face with the back of her hands, "I don't normally answer your phone." He passed her handful of tissues and she offered a weak attempt at a smile. "But I could see that it was Sarah, and she was so persistent – calling one time right after another – so I thought just this once – Noah, will you please sit down?" She pleaded and gestured to the chair just behind him.

"Rachel, come on, just fuckin' tell me what the hell's goin' on here! Shit." He winced when he saw her flinch and take another step back. "I'm sorry babe," he reached for her and waited as she took a tentative step forward. "Just – ya gotta stop this and just tell me what's going on. Are Sarah and Aaron okay?"

Rachel nodded just slightly and cleared her throat to continue. "It's … Noah, it's your mother."

Puck's hands reflexively balled into fists and his shoulders tensed. "What about ma? She okay? My dad didn't show up again did he?" He ground his teeth together and turned his gaze away from her just a little. "I _knew _ I shoulda kicked his ass last time when I had the chance." He jumped when Rachel's hand landed softly on his shoulder.

"Noah," she waited for him to face her fully. "It wasn't your father." She shook her head slowly.

Puck didn't acknowledge the first two tears that slipped out when his body seemed to understand what Rachel was telling him before his mind caught up.

"I'm so sorry Noah." She took another step closer to him and slid her hand down his arm until her fingers circled his wrist.

"No." He glared down at her tear-stained face. "NO!"

"I – I don't even know what to say, No-,"

He jerked his arm out of her grasp and turned away from her until she was left staring at his profile. "I said, no," he ground out.

Rachel ignored his protests, stepping closer to him again and wrapping one hand around his fist, the other falling flat onto his stomach. "The doctor told Sarah it was an aneurism. It was very sudden, instantaneous, really, so she didn't -," She stopped speaking and choked on a sob when Puck's hand slipped from hers and his body crumpled into a heap on the floor, supported only by the chair behind him. Without a word, she lowered to her knees beside him and reached again for his hand. Fist clenched and knuckles white, Puck swept his arm out to push her away, but Rachel only caught his fist between both of her small hands. She massaged the back of his hand with her thumbs, his jaw ticking in a painful effort at grinding his teeth, until his fingers began to loosen.

When a gap finally started to form between his fingers and his palm, Rachel pushed her own hand into Puck's. She continued massaging his hand, pushing her thumbs in long, smooth strokes upward from his wrist. She still didn't speak as the tears rolled freely down his face, biting her lower lip when he reached, free hand still balled into a fist, to push away the moisture that burned into his skin. He finally managed to relax his hand somewhat and she lifted it to her mouth and pressed her lips into his palm, alternating between gentle kisses and whispered words of apology. She didn't move when he slid his hand across her cheek and to the back of her neck, her own hands moving to grip his shirt as he pulled her none-too-gently into his lap.

"I'm so sor-," again Rachel was cut off when Puck only shook his head and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pulling her body flush against his and burying his face in her shoulder. She pulled her arms from between their bodies and wound them around his shoulders, one hand falling to rub gentle circles over his back and the other lifting, her nails scratching over his scalp from top to bottom and back again. The couple sat like that for more minutes than either of them wanted to count – Rachel balanced on Puck's outstretched legs and cradling his head to her body, murmuring and sometimes even singing into his ear as his tears soaked into the fabric of her tank top.

"What'd you say it was?" Puck's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke again. It actually surprised him when it came out; he almost wondered for a second if it was actually his own.

He couldn't remember a time that he'd cried openly before. Sure, he'd thrown a temper tantrum of sorts when his dad left, slamming doors and kicking whatever he could reach. There had probably been some angry tears in there somewhere, but even at seven, he hadn't truly cried. Ten years later, he spent a lot of time alone after signing Beth's adoption papers, and more than once he'd had to swallow down a baseball-sized lump in his throat. But again, no real crying. But this, this was his _mom_. His mom, who'd been there for every F on his report cards, every fight, every stupid decision. She'd been there for it all, and though more than once she'd tried to literally smack some sense into him with a palm to the back of his head, she had never given up on him. Sometimes he thought he wished she would, if only so he could stop disappointing her. But she refused. And then when he started turning things around – actually going to class, spending his pool cleaning money on things other than dip and nunchucks, hell, even getting solos in glee – she was his number one fan. (One guess at who number two was.) That support continued for the next 10 years, through the ups and downs that followed him out of high school. It didn't go away once he went to New York, it just seemed that he had finally gotten his act together and needed less pushing and got more cheering. (Again, one guess who helped make sure it stayed that way.)

"An aneurism? That's like, in your brain, right?"

"Noah," Rachel continued running her hand over his head where it still rested on her shoulder, his hot breath fanning across her throat as he spoke. "We don't have to talk about this right now."

"That's what it is, right?"

Rachel sighed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Yes. That's what it is."

"And what," he turned his face a little farther into her shoulder, "… is there a _cause_? I mean," he cleared his throat, "is it like, stress-related or something?"

"God no!" Rachel gasped and gripped his cheeks between her hands, pulling his face away from her body and up until his eyes begrudgingly met hers. "It's nothing like that." She lowered her face until the tip of her nose brushed his. "_Nothing._ Do you hear me?" Puck nodded. "It's just … It's something many, many people have in their bodies. And many of those people live their entire lives without any kind of problem. But for some of those people – and it's nearly impossible to know who or why, there are no signs, no warnings – well, it bursts. But – Noah, look at me," she waited until his eyes, which had drifted across the room, came back to hers, "nothing you did caused this. This is not your fault. Do you understand me?" He nodded once, weakly. "It's _not_."

"I just … I was an asshole. You know. You were there." He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "I spent half my life bein' a complete fuckin' asshole, and she was always there to pick up the pieces. She was one 'a two people in the whole goddamn world who thought I could be better but never like, cut me down or wrote me off when I screwed up. And now that I finally got my shit together," he spoke through gritted teeth, "she's not gonna be around to see it. She's never gonna see our place," he dropped his forehead back to her collarbone. "I won't get to tell her when I take over the shop 'cause Abe retires. Or – fuck, I dunno – like, start my own guitar school or somethin'." Puck squeezed his eyes closed, but it did nothing to curb the tears starting to flow again. "She's not gonna get to see it when I finally marry you. Or when we make awesome little Jewish grandbabies for her."

"Shh." Rachel's voice shuddered a little and she blinked as tears of her own began to fall, letting her cheek fall to the top of his head. "She will Noah. She'll see all of it."

He let her comfort him, running her hands over his back and head and humming to him, for a minute before his brain when into overdrive again. "Oh shit," it was as if he could feel the panic literally rising in his throat. Whatever calming effect Rachel's words had managed to have on him after his last little outburst was completely overruled by his next thought. "She's alone, isn't she? I mean, Indy's like, three hours from Lima, and I'm here, and fuck Rachel, she's alone. She's not supposed to be -,"

"She's not alone, Noah." She spoke softly and rested her hands on either side of his neck, her thumbs stroking the underside of his jaw as she pulled back to watch his eyes closely. "I called my daddy as soon as I got off the phone with Sarah. He was going to stay with her until Sarah got to the hospital to have her released and take her to the temple. And she had been at work, so her friend Margaret stayed with her until Daddy got there."

"But I should be with her." He broke her gaze and began to fidget with the hem of her top – anything to avoid looking at her as he continued. "I didn't wanna let her down anymore."

Rachel hiccupped a little and pressed her face into the top of his head. He knew she was trying to keep him from hearing her sobs, but it didn't really work. "She loved you _so _much," she was whispering and he thought maybe this was killing her almost as much as it was killing him. "And this, you being here, doing what you're doing, this is what she wanted for you. Don't even consider telling yourself otherwise."

"Hey," she straightened her back after about a minute and swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, "so I got plane tickets for tomorrow afternoon and for late Wednesday morning; I wasn't sure which you would want to do." She paused, giving him time to respond, he guessed, and when he didn't, she continued. "Sarah and Aaron were driving over as soon as they could get packed and everything, so she was planning to go to the hospital and talk to the doctor, see if there was anything to be taken care of there. She's going to be staying at your-the house. She said we're welcome to stay there with them, of course, but if that makes you uncomfortable, I know my dads would more than welcome us staying with them."

"Us?" He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes. "You're goin' with me?"

"Well," Rachel's brows furrowed, "of course I am. Now, I know you're used to dealing with things on your own, and maybe it makes you feel vulnerable or uncomfortable or something to feel like I'm looking after you or trying to take care of you, but I won't let you do this alone. Even if we get to Ohio and you send me off to my dads' and don't see me for the rest of the trip, you'll know I'm there if you need me."

"I want you there." His eyes were wide and earnest as he stared back at her.

"Oh."

"Honestly, I don't know if I could do it all without you there. I just," Puck looked away for a second, almost sheepishly, "I thought – ya know, with the workshop and everything."

"The workshop will still be here when we get back. They'll survive without me for a week or so." She trailed her fingertips lightly from his shoulders to the crooks of his elbows and settled her hands there. "I already talked to my director. I told her I needed to be with you and – and our family right now. She understood, just told me to call her when I get back into town."

"I love you Rachel." He slid his hands up her back and pulled her head forward to press his lips to her forehead, not pulling back as he continued to speak. "I love you so damn much baby. Thank you."

~.~

On day 424, Puck went back to Lima for the first time in over a year.

Puck loved his ma, obviously, but other than her, there was nothing for him in Lima. (He did recognize the irony in the fact that now that he was going back, she wasn't really there anymore.) Rachel had been in New York for so long that she was used to being away, and her dads visited regularly (four times since he'd moved in), so she certainly wasn't pushing for a trip back to Ohio. Of course he'd missed his mom and sister, but they kept saying they'd come up together to visit him and Rachel whenever they could get some vacation time to line up. Puck even offered to pay for the plane tickets. The time never lined up. Sarah came up once for the day when Aaron had a conference in Philadelphia, but Puck hadn't seen his mom since the day he backed out of her driveway and headed for what he planned to be his new start.

Needing to be with his sister and in his mom's house as soon as possible, Puck told Rachel as they lay on the couch the previous night, the room dark except for the street light slipping in the wide living room window, that he wanted to use the earliest tickets she had gotten. She just nodded and stroked his arm until he fell asleep.

"You didn't wake me up." Puck padded into the bathroom behind her and scrubbed his palm over his scalp as he watched her through the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, damp hair cascading over her shoulders.

She nodded, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth and taking a second to spit out the foamy bubbles. "You were exhausted."

He stepped just behind her and rested his hands on her hips, pressing his lips slowly into the back of her head. "Thanks." He slid his hands across her stomach until his arms wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed into her back. "Guess I should go pack." Puck let his cheek fall to the top of Rachel's head.

She shook her head gently. "I already did that. You may want to double-check me a bit, but I believe I got everything you would need or want."

"Oh. Alright then. Well, I should prob'ly call Abe and tell him what's up. Ya know, let him know I won't be around for a couple days."

"I took care of that too. You've got two weeks off. With pay." She laid her hands on his forearms and squeezed. "Go eat. There's waffles, bacon," Puck lifted his head to look down at her in shock, "fresh fruit you probably won't eat – to be honest, I didn't know if you'd feel like eating anything at all, but it's there. There's coffee, too, of course, so if nothing else-,"

"You're incredible."

"I'm here, Noah, every step of the way. Don't forget that." Rachel turned in his arms and kissed his chest firmly, just over his heart.

Hiram picked them up from the airport that afternoon. Sarah offered, but Puck knew she was already handling a lot since she had gotten there almost a full day before him and Rachel. He could hear the stress in her voice when she told him that she could 'work out' coming to Columbus to get them. That, of course, really meant that she would send Aaron, since he doubted she had left the temple since she finished taking care of whatever stuff she'd had to do as next of kin the previous night. And if Sarah was sitting with their mother, that meant Aaron was left taking care of everything else, including, most importantly, looking after his wife, Puck's baby sister. Rachel had already talked to her dads, who seemed almost eager to do something, _anything_, so he told her to let Mr. Berry know they'd take him up on his offer to give them a ride.

Puck knew, as much as it may have bothered him to admit it even to himself (although he was coming to terms with it more very second), that he needed Rachel. He needed her beside him to keep him from falling apart while he dealt with burying his mother and facing everyone and everything that came along with that. But he also knew that he and Sarah needed their time. So, he called his little sister and asked her to have Aaron sit with their mom, just for a little while, so they could spend some time together at the house when he got in. Then he told Rachel he thought it would be good if she spent a few hours with her dads and asked Mr. Berry to drop him off at his old house. Rachel looked at him, concern in her eyes, but he assured her that was what he needed and she just smiled and nodded. When they got there, she walked him to the house, hugging Sarah and kissing her cheek quickly when the younger woman met them at the door. Rachel then kissed him softly, her lips lingering against his and her fingertips brushing across his cheeks, before telling him she'd see him after dinner and heading back to her father's car.

Puck was sprawled across his old bed, the television on but his eyes focused on the ceiling, when Rachel got back.

She stood in the doorway and watched him. "So, uh, I saw Sarah and Aaron when I came in. Should I call my fathers to go to the temple? Or maybe you would like me to go. I mean, I've always cared about your mother, and she's become family to me too."

Puck shook his head. "Aunt Bekah got in today. Came by to feed me and Sarah then went over and sent Aaron back home so we could all be together for a little while. She's stayin' till mornin' then I'm gonna go over 'till the funeral. I, umm" he shifted his eyes to watch the tip of his index finger trace the stitches of the quilt, one his mom had made him when he was a boy, "I was kinda hopin' you'd come with me. If you don't mind."

"Of course Noah. I already told you, every step of the way."

"Right." He still wasn't used to all that; he'd never really had it before he got Rachel. "Thank you." He folded his hands together over his stomach and focused back on the ceiling. "So, have a good time with daddies Berry?"

She nodded and walked into the room. "It's always lovely to spend time with them. The mood was considerably different from normal, given the circumstances, but I can't complain about the opportunity to see them."

"That's nice." Puck's voice was distant; his mind wasn't entirely in the conversation.

"Are you okay, Noah?" She sat her purse on the desk along the wall and walked to him, brows furrowed. "I mean, you know, considering."

"Come sit down, Rach." He pushed himself up and moved to the foot of the bed until his feet touched the floor. Rachel sat next to him, one hand splayed across his thigh. "I umm, I'm sorry. About last night." He didn't look at her, but he saw her head cock to the side out of the corner of his eye.

"Noah, I … I don't understand."

"I'm sposed to be strong, Rachel. And I mean, I'm not in high school anymore. I've grown up a lot, and I know it doesn't make me like, a pussy to be in love with you or to want you around, or even to need you. But I'm not sposed to break down like that. I'm not supposed to lose control; I just, I'm sposed to be stronger than that."

"Look at me, Noah." Rachel turned her body into his, the hand on his leg moving up to the base of his neck and her other hand taking its place. "You're the strongest person I know." She squeezed the back of his neck when his head dropped forward. "I mean it, Noah. I don't know anyone else who has been through the things you've been through, and you've turned out to be a wonderful, incredible man. Everyone who knows you knows how strong you are, but that doesn't mean we expect you not to feel things. No one expects you not to hurt."

Puck turned his head into her hand, stopping when his lips hit the inside of her wrist. He sat that way for a minute, Rachel's fingers stroking the back of his head and his lips whispering silent 'I love yous' into her arm. He pressed a kiss to her skin before he pulled away from her and stood. "There was something else I need to fix." He faced her and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

"Noah, I've told you -,"

"Just," he held up a hand to stop her, "just let me do this, okay?" She nodded. "Okay. So, I was upset last night." He shook his head a little. "Still upset." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But anyway. I said some stuff I shouldn'ta said." He began to pace in front of her. "I mean, not that I didn't mean it, 'cause I meant it, 'cause I'm seriously in love with you. But I shouldn'ta said it like _that_. I know we never actually talked about it before," he stopped just in front of her and pulled his hands from his pockets and stared down at them, the left one subtly pressing chords into his stomach and the right, balled loosely, gently strumming out the imaginary melody, "but I _do _want to marry you, Rachel. I want to marry you and have badass little Jewish babies with my eyes and your smile. Dammit," he muttered under his breath. _Not the point._ "Okay, the point is Rachel, I want to marry you. I've wanted to for a long time, in fact. Like, I've had a ring hidden in my grandpa's old Army trunk in the back of my closet for two months. So, I don't want you to think this is some 'Oh no, look how short life is, I don't wanna end up alone,' bullshit." His hands clenched into fists and dropped to his sides, but he still didn't look up at her. Puck could only imagine what was going through Rachel's mind, and if she was sitting there thinking he was a complete idiot, he didn't want to see that on her face. "I just, I was waiting, 'cause I wanted it to be the right time and I wanted it to be perfect for you – and fuck, I _know _this isn't perfect for you, but Sarah gave me Ma's ring, and it was Nana Connie's ring before that, and there's just something about having this ring," he curled his right hand tighter around the ring in his palm, "and being in this house for probably the last time ever, and knowing how much she wanted this for me." Puck dropped to one knee in front of her, staring at her feet as his left hand curled around her calf. "Rachel, I'm sorry. I know you deserve some grand gesture, some magical proposal along with a confession of my undying love, but I hope you know that even though I may have messed up, like, the presentation," he took a deep breath and extended his right hand to her, palm open so that she could see the ring that had been passed through generations of his family, finally looking up at her at the same time, "all the feelings and stuff – Shit." He stopped when he really took in her face – the tears streaming down her cheeks and the way she chewed her bottom lip. "I totally fucked this up, didn't I? I been waitin' two fuckin' months, and this is what I do? Shit! I'm sorry, Rach."

"Noah." He barely heard her over his own ranting. Her voice was just above a whisper.

"You know what," he closed his hand back around the ring and rubbed his other palm on his jeans, "let's just forget about this, okay?"

"Noah." She was louder that time, but he still ignored her.

"We'll pretend I didn't do this." He sat back on his heels. "We'll go back to New York and I'll go back to planning your epic proposal and -,"

"Noah!" It was impossible to ignore her when she screamed at him and grabbed his right arm, which was quickly heading back toward his pocket. He stopped and stared at her as she laughed through her tears. "Will you just give me my ring already?"

"Seriously?"

She nodded and Puck lunged for her, keeping a tight grip on the ring with his right hand and burying the left in her hair as his mouth met hers. He moaned a little when his teeth skimmed across her bottom lip and she responded by nipping back at him. When his left hand tightened around her neck, his right did the same around the ring, and the sharp sting he felt when the diamond dug into his palm reminded him of just exactly what he was doing. He kissed her one more time then pulled away, pulling her trembling left hand from his chest and drawing it up to his mouth before slowly sliding the ring onto her finger. He stared at her hand, watching his thumb rub over the ring that he had seen his entire life but never actually appreciated until then.

"You're gonna marry me, Rachel Berry," he whispered, still staring down at her hand.

"I'm going to marry you, Noah Puckerman," she whispered back, smiling when he looked up at her and grinned.

Puck jumped to his feet, grabbing her face with both hands as he kissed her and lowered her back onto the bed. When Rachel squeezed his arms then pulled back, panting but smiling, he leaned in to peck her once on the forehead then propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head toward the door. "She said yes!" he yelled so loudly that Rachel flinched.

"No shit!" Sarah's sarcastic voice floated down the hall.

"Shocker," Aaron deadpanned at almost the exact same moment.

Puck dropped his forehead to the mattress beside Rachel's head then rolled off her to lie on his side facing her. "I guess they're not surprised," he smirked.

Rachel rolled onto her side to look back at him before giggling. "It would appear that way." She tucked one hand under her cheek and rested the other over his heart.

Puck's hand found its way onto her hip, his thumb slipping under her top to rub small circles on her side as he watched her close her eyes and sigh happily. "Rachel?" He frowned a little. "Is this wrong?"

"Getting cold feet already, Puckerman?" She smiled playfully, but he could see a hint of worry when she opened her eyes.

"'Course not." He tugged at her hip and dragged her body closer to his. "You're stuck with me now." He leaned forward to kiss her when she puckered her lips at him. "I just … Is it okay for us to be this happy right now?"

"Oh Noah," she rubbed her hand a little over his heart. "Your mother loved you and your sister more than anything in the world, and everything she did was to try to make sure you two would be happy. So no, I don't think it's wrong."

"Thank you." He leaned forward to kiss her again, lingering a bit longer this time, and when he pulled back, it was just far enough that their noses no longer touched. "She loved you too, ya know."

It was true. For as long as Puck could remember, his mom had been pushing him toward Rachel in one way or another. He always just assumed it was because she was a 'good little Jewish girl,' but looking back, he thought maybe she always just knew. She knew that Rachel calmed him, helped make him a better person – or, at least, a better version of himself. She knew Rachel was the real reason things never went completely back to normal between him and Finn, even once the Quinn thing was basically water under the bridge. She even knew that Rachel was the invisible pull dragging him to New York before he even really realized that was where he was going.

"The feeling was mutual, I assure you. She was a wonderful woman."

Puck nodded his agreement, then closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath. "She could be a pain in the ass though."

"Noah!" Rachel gasped and smacked his chest. She tried to look scandalized, but he could tell she wasn't really upset. He guessed, knowing her, that she was too happy to see him happy, under the circumstances, to actually get angry about his little joke.

"Mean it babe. Lemme tell ya what she did when I first moved to New York. I called her the day after I started staying with you while you were at your show. First, I said, 'Hey ma, guess what, Rachel's here,' and all she said was, 'I know.' So I tried again," Puck rolled his eyes at the memory. "I said, 'Yeah, but not just like, _in New York_ here. Like, I saw her last night. Went to her show then took her out for coffee."

"You did not -,"

"Hush woman," he clamped a hand over her mouth and she glared at him, "my story. Anyway, know what she said to that?" Rachel shook her head and he moved his hand back to her waist. "She said, 'Okay,' just all casual and shit. Like it hadn't been 10 years since you'd left. Like she thought I just went up there and went looking for you or something." She smirked back at him and he tickled her side. "So I figured, fine, she wanted to be like that, I could play her game too. I was trying to ease her into it or whatever, but screw that. So I basically just said, 'Ma, I'm shackin' up with Rachel Berry.' And when it was all said and done, she actually just sounded disappointed when I convinced her we really were just friends and that I was sleepin' in the guest room."

Rachel let out a small giggle and clamped her own hand over her mouth. "Sorry." She smiled at him sheepishly once she had composed herself. "So what did she say when you told her we were together?"

Puck grinned and slid his hand around to her back. "Well, the first thing I thought on my way to work after you kissed me – _after _I stopped tasting your lip gloss on my tongue, cause that was giving me a whole different kinda thoughts – was 'Ma's gonna _love _this.' So I didn't tell her for like a month." He grinned at his own cleverness, but Rachel chastised him and tried to roll away. Instead of letting her, he rolled onto his back and used the hand on her waist to bring her with him. "It was payback for expectin', and actually _wantin'_, me to go up there and hook up with you on day one," he told her once she was settled on top of him, her hands folded on his chest and her chin resting on them. "B'sides, I wasn't ready to share you yet." Rachel squinted and looked at him curiously. "I told you Rach, she loved you. I knew as soon as I told her she'd be all over it – wantin' to know shit, wantin' to talk to you – I wanted to have you all to myself for a little while."

"Oh Noah." She laid her head down so that her ear rested over his heart and he wound his arms tight around her waist. "You don't even need to worry about that. No matter what, I'm all yours."

He kissed the top of her head. "Even when I fuck up?"

She trailed her fingers up his chest and over his collarbone as she turned her head to kiss his chest. "Especially then. And no matter what you think about yourself, you should know that I'm always going to find you strong, and wonderful, and basically perfect. Because you're mine."

_**I may not have the softest touch  
>I may not say the words as such<br>And though I may not look like much  
>I'm yours<strong>_

On day 547, Puck gave half of himself to another person, totally and completely. And officially.

Rachel's idea of wedding planning had shocked him. First, she hadn't mentioned it at all the entire week they were in Lima. Of course, she had laid her left hand flat across the kitchen table at breakfast the next morning when Sarah demanded to see how the Puckerman ring looked on "the newest member of the family," and no matter how hard she tried (he could see her biting the inside of her cheek), out of careful consideration for the circumstances that had brought them there, she couldn't contain her grin every time Puck introduced her to some distant relative or family friend as his fiancé. But that was the extent of it. It almost worried him. Shouldn't she be, like, gushing over flowers and dresses and place settings?

Of course, things ramped up a little once they got back to New York. He sometimes came home from work to hear her talking to her dads, or even his sister, about colors and hairstyles. He'd had to duck into the kitchen once to keep her from seeing his grin when he overheard her telling her dad that wearing her hair down was "non-negotiable" because that was how he liked it. But more often than not, the parts of the conversation that he could hear consisted mostly of Rachel dismissing someone's ideas for being too fancy, or too over-the-top, or just plain too much. He asked her one day, about a week after they got home, how the wedding planning was going and if there was anything she wanted him to do, but she just shook her head and said, "Everything's fine Noah. You've already taken care of the best part, now all you have to do is show up and be you."

Eventually, he'd broken down and asked what he really wanted to know, which was why in the hell he was engaged to Rachel freakin' Berry, and she wasn't freaking out over every little detail of the wedding. He'd finally had to admit that it scared him, because Rachel getting to plan a wedding, and not going nuts about it, made him wonder if the idea of marrying him just wasn't something worth going nuts over. She reassured him over a long conversation that ended with her in his lap on the couch and just as many kisses as words being exchanged between them. Turned out she just wasn't into the idea of a big, extravagant wedding that would take a year to plan and just wouldn't be _them_. He got that, loved it about her, in fact, and that conversation flowed right into one about just how long their engagement should be. Rachel's answer was "just until I have a good opportunity to get away from the show." Since Puck's answer was, "as short as fuckin' possible," it worked.

So they planned their small wedding that was all them, and in January, when Rachel had a few week break between the workshops for the show and the start of rehearsals, they packed for Ohio and Spain and set off for their simple Jewish wedding with its bridal party of two – Puck's sister on his side and Rachel's college roommate and _Mamma Mia _co-star Makayla on hers. Rachel insisted, the one thing other than her hair that she really _insisted _on, that they get married in the temple they both grew up in by a Rabbi who had retired about a year earlier. Puck knew that was all about his mom – neither of them was particularly religious – but he never brought it up. There were a lot of things Rachel had done for him over the past year and a half that he never brought up. He just tried every way he knew how to show her how much he appreciated and loved her for it.

Sarah turned out to be the awesomest best man in like, the history of ever. He really shouldn't have been surprised, considering all the DNA they shared. She picked him, Rachel, and Makayla up at the airport and dropped the girls off at the Berry house before shuttling him to the one decent hotel in Lima, where she'd gotten them adjoining rooms, to get ready for the rehearsal. She'd even planned a kick-ass, if hilariously awkward, bachelor party that started at the one bar in town Puck could never get into high school and ended at the one strip club in town, period, and had a guest list consisting of Sarah and himself, Aaron, Artie, Blaine, Sam, Mike, and Finn. Except, when it came time to leave the bar and head for the strip club, Puck looked at Sarah and told her he really just wanted to go back to the hotel. She called him a pussy but then nodded and smiled, telling Aaron to try to make sure none of the others did anything stupid enough to get themselves arrested and screaming at Finn and Sam to "flip for it" when they argued over who got to pretend to be Puck to get the 'super-special groom lap dances.'

"Sorry," Sarah started when they were back in his room, each sprawled on one of the queen beds and watching some channel that showed the cartoons they had loved as kids. "I shoulda known it would be too weird, goin' to a strip club with your little sister." She lifted one shoulder. "I was just tryin' to be a good best man."

"Nah, it's cool. I mean," Puck chuckled, "yeah, it woulda been weird. But that's not why I didn't wanna go. I woulda just kinda hung back and let the other guys have their fun anyway – it woulda been more for them than me. Oh," he pointed the remote at her, "and you totally shoulda said Finn could be me down there. Have you _seen _Sam's wife?" he asked when she narrowed his eyes questioningly at him. "Finn needs it way more."

"Anyway," he continued once they both stopped laughing, "I just … guess _I _needed _this _more."

"Aww, I love you too, big brother," she laughed and blew him a kiss, ducking the pillow that came flying her way.

"She's perfect, ya know." Sarah went on after a long period of comfortable silence. "I mean, she's _not _perfect, really. She's loud, and always right, and even though she's gotten better, she can still be obnoxiously overbearing sometimes. But she's perfect for _you_, big brother."

"I know," he smiled, watching the remote spin in his hands. "Thanks."

On the way out of the hotel the next morning, Puck teased Sarah that she wasted her money getting those adjoining rooms, since she'd still been in the other bed in his room when he woke up. "Come on, big brother," she'd taunted in the elevator, "had to get in one more sleepover before Hell freezes over."

"Hey!" he protested. "When did I ever say I wasn't getting married?"

Sarah looked up to the ceiling and started ticking off her fingers. "Second grade. Third grade – your birthday _and _Hanukkah." She pointed at him, "Well, every grade until you graduated, for that matter. And then every other day until you proposed to Bitch-Face. It did ebb off to about twice a week after that. Ow!" She screeched when he hit her on the shoulder as they exited into the lobby. "Noah! You're not supposed to hit girls!" She glared at him and rubbed the tender spot on the top of her arm.

"You're not a girl," he snorted. "You're my best man, remember?" He stuck out his tongue at her and she mimicked the action.

He was right about part of that, at least, and even though the bachelor party was over and the main event had basically arrived, he was learning that Sarah had no plans to stop being the 'awesomest best man ever.' The giant purse he had teased her mercilessly about contained snacks, a stain remover pen ("For when you inevitably drop some of that food on your suit."), a few handkerchiefs that he insisted he wouldn't need until she pointed out that they weren't exactly for him, and a flask full of Jack Daniels. The flask was much more beneficial to his high school buddies than it was to him (hair of the dog, and all that), but he did take one shot early enough in the day that it would be out of his system by the time the ceremony started. He didn't necessarily need it, but they all insisted that he had to, for like tradition or old time's sake or whatever, so he toasted to his past and his future and him and Rachel and his mom and, hell, he was pretty sure he even toasted to glee by the time they all finished shouting things out, and tipped back the flask while the guys and Sarah and Aaron all did the same with their shot glasses. Most of all, though, it was awesome that his best man was a girl, because it meant she had full access to the bride's changing room. And he was pretty sure that the best thing about his best man being his sister was that she didn't make fun of him when he sent her over to give Rachel the earrings he had gotten her as a wedding gift. Or when he wanted to make sure Finn hadn't started hitting on Makayla yet, 'cause that would _totally _piss Rachel off, since she kinda made _him _promise to make the _guys _promise that there would be no hooking up, or attempts at hooking up, with her maid of honor until at least after the ceremony (preferably once they were safely on a plane out of the country). Or when he wanted her to check to see that Rachel hadn't forgotten anything at her dads' and volunteer Mike and Artie to go get it for her. Or, when he'd run out of excuses, just to make sure that she was still there and that she didn't plan on going anywhere before they made it official.

To be honest, Puck always thought of himself as the kind of guy who, if Hell ever froze over, to use Sarah's metaphor, and he did get married, would have to be drunk or sedated and dragged down the aisle. But as he sat in the changing room in the back of the temple, listening to his oldest friends and his little sister laugh at embarrassing stories about himself, he couldn't keep his eyes off the clock. He willed the hours, the minutes, even the seconds, to go faster. He was ready to kill Sarah for going along with his stupid idea that waiting at the temple would be better than waiting at the hotel. So when there was a quick rap at the door and it opened a few inches to reveal LeRoy Berry on the other side, Puck jumped from the couch that he had nearly picked a hole in. "Alright, see that, Mr. Berry's here. Time to get this show on the road. Guys, Aaron, everybody but Squirt's gotta go. See you guys at the end of the show." He extended his arms to the sides, practically sweeping everyone along with him as he walked toward the door.

"Well, actually Noah, I just came to give you Rachel's gift. She said you would need it for the reception." Mr. Berry must have caught on to the pleading look Puck was attempting to send him, because he cleared his throat and continued. "But no, you're probably right, Noah. I'm sure you boys want to get good seats, you know, before the other guests actually start arriving." Puck rolled his eyes when LeRoy quirked an amused eyebrow at him. "Oh, and Finn and Samuel, my mother-in-law will be arriving shortly. I'm sure she would appreciate the help of two strapping young men such as yourselves to get up those steep front steps." He nodded at each of the men as they left and closed the door behind them.

"Did something happen to Rachel's Bubbe?" Puck was concerned. He didn't want anything to dampen the day for Rachel. Plus, he kinda liked the kooky old lady. "She didn't seem to have any trouble getting in and out of the temple for -," he cleared his throat and glanced over at Sarah before studying his shoes, "last time."

LeRoy waved dismissively. "Ruth is perfectly fine." He smiled at the Puckermans conspiratorially. "But it will make her absolutely nuts to have those two insisting on helping her. And it will be positively hilarious when she starts beating them with that monstrosity she calls a handbag. Now," he straightened his face and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, producing a small, wrapped box. "The real reason for my little visit – my daughter wanted to make sure you got this before the ceremony. Apparently it is vital for the reception." He handed Puck the box and clapped him on the shoulder. "See you in about 30 minutes, son."

Sarah closed the door behind Rachel's father then rushed to her brother's side, peering around his arm as he tore the paper off the box. "Wow," she breathed as Puck lifted the pick out of the plush material it rested in, rubbing it almost reverently between his thumb and forefinger. "I didn't even know it was possible to imprint on mother of pearl."

"It's a laser engraving," Puck didn't take his eyes off the iridescent instrument as he spoke quietly to his sister. He studied the pick, the loopy text that he had to squint a little to read and that bore an uncanny resemblance to Rachel's handwriting standing in stark contrast to the pearly, marbled texture of the background. He smiled to himself, his thumb running lightly over the date and the words "Good times" on the front. After a moment, he flipped it over to confirm that the back read "never felt so good," this time in a more blocky, jagged font that strongly resembled his own handwriting.

Sarah hip-checked him before walking to the mirror and smoothing back a few stray hairs around her face. "Told ya she was perfect."

Exactly 27 minutes later, Puck stood under the Chuppah in the front his childhood temple with Rabbi Meyer, Sarah just behind him, and looked out at about 50 of his and Rachel's friends and family members. Again, the thought crossed his mind for a second that he should probably feel nervous, or scared, or _something_, but all he could find in there was impatience for Rachel to come down the aisle so he could say his vows and crush the glass and just marry her already. He waited while Makayla walked down the aisle, after trying to hide his disappointment when the door opened and he remembered that she had to go first. But then the music changed, and the door opened again to reveal Rachel, flanked by her fathers, in a white dress that was way simpler than he had expected but pretty much made her look like an angel, and his heart stopped for a second. He couldn't breathe and in that moment he kinda felt like he was back in New York in that theater on his second night in the city. It'd been a year and a half, or 15 years, or practically his entire life, depending on how you looked at it, but she still had that effect on him that no one else had.

Puck kind of floated through most of the ceremony. It was like he watched himself step out of the Chuppah to accept Rachel's hand from Hiram after both he and LeRoy kissed her on her cheeks. He didn't even taste the wine he sipped from the cup Rabbi Meyer handed him, though he will never forget the drop that lingered on Rachel's lip as she lowered the cup or the way her tongue just peeked out to wipe it away. He also noticed, and ignored, the reproachful look he received from the Rabbi for breaking tradition (they'd ignored so many already, he guessed, that the guy just wanted them to respect the ones they did keep) when he brought Rachel's palm to his lips after slipping the simple gold band onto her finger. His head was in some kind of haze as they went through the steps – the Ketubah, the blessings, the second sip of wine that _still _didn't make an impression as it flowed over his tongue. It wasn't that Puck wasn't interested in the ceremony. He respected and even appreciated the tradition and symbolism of the whole thing. He knew it was important to his family and Rachel's family, and even Rachel to some extent, and to his mom, even if she wasn't actually there to tell him so. It was important to him, too, if only because it was just one more thing he shared with Rachel that he'd never shared with anyone else. Thing was, as much as he knew that all this stuff was what really made it a wedding, the thing he was waiting for, the thing that would truly make it _real _for him, was the vows. Until then, it was almost like they were just putting on a big, pretty show for the audience.

Puck watched, anxiously and impatiently, as Rachel took her own second sip of wine and handed the cup back to the Rabbi. "Now," he finally drew himself out of his fog and focused as Rabbi Meyer began to speak again, "in addition to the traditional wedding customs, Rachel and Noah have decided," actually Rachel decided, Puck just agreed because he couldn't deny her anything to do with the wedding, especially something like this, "to recite their own vows to one another. Rachel?" The Rabbi turned to her and she smiled and nodded.

Rachel beamed up at Puck, and while he knew that it was her years of acting experience that had her ready to recite her vows without a single note or so much as a bat of her an eyelash, he also knew that was not her stage smile. He was getting the pure, unadulterated _I'm so happy right now I might actually burst_ Rachel Berry smile. It was contagious, and he loved it.

"Noah," she squeezed his hands in her own and lowered her chin, looking up at him almost shyly as he ran his thumb over and over the new ring that he knew she would move from her right index finger to her ring finger as soon as they were out of the temple. "You have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, first as the little boy who stood right out there," she nodded her head toward the back of the temple and the playground that still sat beyond the wall, "and told another little boy he wasn't allowed to look at me anymore after he stole the ribbons out of my hair and made me cry, then eventually as a true and cherished friend, and finally, for the past year and a half, as the man who I can't imagine a single second of my life without." Puck reached across the short distance between them to collect a tear on his thumb, smiling softly when she leaned into his touch. "And every moment, Noah, since that first day, I've admired you. I've admired your strength, and your loyalty, and your talent, and even your ironically attractive bad-boy image," she giggled and he couldn't help but laugh with her. "But most of all, I've admired your heart," she pulled her hand from his and pressed it to his chest. "And for more years than I can really even calculate for sure, I've loved you and your wonderful heart, in one way or another. Now," she sniffled a little and rolled her eyes when she accepted the handkerchief he held out to her after Sarah kicked the back of his foot, "now I'm so absolutely," her voice shook, "completely in love with you that I can barely stand it. So today, and for the rest of our lives, I plan to prove that to you and to give everything I have to try to make you as happy as I get to be, all because I'm lucky enough to call you mine."

Puck took back his handkerchief after she wiped her eyes one last time and held it out to him, balling it in his fist and shoving it roughly into his pocket. "First," he cleared his throat, trying to push down the lump inside it so he could speak, "close your eyes, Rabbi, you might not like this part." He cupped Rachel's face in his hands and kissed her soundly but gently, his lips pressing firmly against hers but his tongue not trying to push through. He pulled back when he heard their guests laugh, nuzzling his nose against hers before straightening. He clapped the Rabbi on the shoulder. "Alright, coast is clear." Rabbi Meyer had covered his eyes with one hand, to humor him, Puck assumed, since he wore a small smile. "Now," he cleared his throat again and dug into his breast pocket, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of his new guitar pick as he fished out his notes. "Sorry babe, I'm not as good as you," he winked. "Okay, I know we were 'sposed to write our own vows," he threw up his hands when Rachel glared playfully at him and the guests laughed again, "and I did! Mostly." He tried to look sheepish as the laughs continued. "Anyway, you know words, or talkin', at least, have never been my thing. So I may have borrowed just a little." He glanced down at the index card in the hand that wasn't gripping Rachel's. "Rachel, for the past year and a half, you been everything for me. You've been my cheerleader and my number one fan. You've been my best friend, even when I didn't deserve the cheerleading part. You've been my _home_. And every time I've been upset, or hurt, or down on myself, or even scared, you've promised me that everything would be okay, that nothing else mattered to you as long as I was yours. Well, someone who's a lot better than me with words came up with these a long time ago, but they're basically everything I feel every morning when I wake up and realize you're still a part – the _best _part – of my life, so for today, I'm makin' 'em mine.  
><em><strong>Though my edges may be rough<br>I never feel I'm quite enough  
>It may not seem like very much<br>But I'm yours"  
><strong>_He watched Rachel, forgetting the card in his hand, as he recited the decade-old song lyrics. He twisted his wrist, turning his hand to interlock their fingers and bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckle just above his family's ring as he finished. "Rachel, every time that you've told me that nothing else mattered – not my past or any of my shortcomings or my mistakes – that everything would be okay because I was yours, you were right. Every day, for the rest of our lives Rachel, I'm yours."

_**I may not have the softest touch  
>I may not say the words as such<br>I know I don't fit in that much  
>But I'm yours<strong>_

_A/N: Also, thanks to the AMAZING SilverSnikle, my stories can now also be found at arichey[dot]blogspot[dot]com/ . Same stories, just prettier, so take your pick._


	19. Goodnight

**Gloriana – "Good Night"  
><strong>

_**I dropped you off  
>Just a little after midnight<br>Sat in my car  
>Till you turned off your porch light<br>I should have kissed you  
>I should have pushed you up against the wall<br>I should have kissed you  
>Just like I wasn't scared at all<strong>_

When he reached the stop sign at the end of her street, Puck looked down at the bright blue display of the dashboard clock. 12:15. He grimaced. "I hope your dads aren't gonna be pissed." He wasn't sure what her curfew was, but he was pretty sure that it was a hell of a lot earlier than his. (_"I've long ago given up hope of you coming in before I go to bed, Noah," _his ma's voice echoed in his head, _"but, for the sake of my mental health, I would really appreciate it if you would try to be home before I wake up."_) "And I'd offer to come in with ya, smooth things over or whatever, but that'd probably just make it worse," he turned to her as he pulled into her driveway, pushing the gearshift into the neutral position and letting his hand rest on it, and saw her looking back at him quizzically. "I mean, I'm not exactly the Golden Boy or whatever. They might not be so thrilled about you ridin' around with me, 'specially this late."

"Noah," Rachel sighed and dropped her hand on top of his. "My fathers like you just fine." He scoffed and she squeezed his fingers. "I mean it. Papa, while he is of course incredibly open-minded and has no prejudice against anyone based on religious preference or heritage, likes to see me spending time with a fellow Jew." She giggled. "And he loves your mother."

Puck snorted a little. "Feeling's mutual."

"And daddy," she traced her fingertips absent-mindedly over his knuckles, "thinks you're quite charming."

"Right," he drawled, watching her slender fingers move over his, "I'm a real charming son of a bitch."

Rachel swatted at his hand before withdrawing her own to play with the hem of her skirt. "I mean it, Noah. Though your particular use, or _misuse_, of the English language often leaves something to be desired, the fact that you so openly speak your mind and say exactly what you mean is refreshing. And though I doubt he would leave you alone with his liquor cabinet, or a pack of matches," she waited while he chuckled, his head dropping back onto the seat, "he trusts you. Particularly where I am concerned."

"Yeah?" He let his head loll to the side to look at her. Puck kinda had a hard time buying that. Not the part about her daddy thinking he was charming 'cause he, like, wasn't afraid to call it like it was. He could see where LeRoy would dig that. And the other stuff didn't bother him. He knew he was a firebug with a tendency to drink more than he should at times. But that whole 'dad trusting him with his daughter' thing, yeah – that was new. And he wasn't completely sure he believed it.

"Yeah." He watched as she dropped her own head back and turned to face him, her posture mirroring his. "I mean, when you say you're going to do something, you nearly always do it. You're dependable." He smirked at the soft pink blush spreading over her cheeks. "And not only have you never let me down, you've stepped up several times when it wasn't even your responsibility. That hasn't gone unnoticed by daddy. Or me." She dropped her eyes to the center of the seat, where both of their hands now rested, his moving slowly over the leather until his fingertips just brushed hers. "Anyway," she cleared her throat, a soft, almost hesitant sound, "I doubt my fathers are even still up." Her eyes darted to the house and his followed. The only light burning was the one on the front porch. "And if they are, it will be fine. They knew we were going to meet up with the club. They expected it to be a relatively late night."

"Cool." He smirked a little when she rolled her eyes. She probably thought he was _misusing _the English language again.

"I had a wonderful time, Noah." She was blushing again, her fingers spreading and shifting a little to fit between his. He smiled. It was cute.

"Yeah, it was cool. Hadn't seen most of those guys in a while. It was nice to hang out." His brow furrowed when he thought he saw her frown a little.

"Right." Rachel paused and looked down at the seat, seeming to study their hands as her middle finger hooked over his just a little. "And, well, it was lovely of you to offer me a ride. It just goes to further prove what I was saying before." She smiled, a little dreamily, he thought. "And it was very nice to spend some extra time with you. You know, away from the group."

"Yeah, that part was good. You're pretty good company, B." He lifted his finger a little off the seat, chasing hers when she seemed like she was starting to pull back.

Rachel dropped her head, tucking her chin into her chest. "I haven't been called that in so long."

Puck just watched her for a moment, her eyes closing and her head tilting to the side, a soft smile on her face almost as if she was letting the nickname roll around in her head before moving on. He couldn't help but smile back. Rachel missed being called by a nickname, and he'd realized when she'd bounced down her driveway and into his truck several hours before with a cheerful, "Hello, Noah!" that he missed being called by his real one. With her in New York, the only people who called him that were his mom and his sister, and now that she was in high school, even Sarah had taken to calling him "Puck" half the time.

"Well," Rachel sighed and straightened her back, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I suppose I should be going now."

"Right." Puck cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his own seat, pulling his hand back when she was no longer touching him. "I, uh, guess I'll see ya later. Britt's birthday's next week, so you know there'll be something for that. I could totally give you a ride again, if you want."

"Oh. Right." Rachel pulled the hem of her skirt tight between each thumb and forefinger, eyes fixed on the material. "That would be lovely Noah, thank you. I guess we'll just talk once the plans are made."

He nodded. There was more that he wanted to say, but he wasn't exactly sure what it was, and Rachel seemed pretty damn uncomfortable right then, so he thought it'd be best to just let her go. "So … you, uh, you want me to walk you up? Make sure you get in okay and everything?"

"Oh." She blinked owlishly back at him. "No. I'm – it's fine. It's just right there. They left the light on for me, so it's fine." She pushed the door open, but hesitated, feet dangling over the ground, to look back over her shoulder at him. "I, um, I had a good time. Thank you."

Puck watched her lower herself out of the truck with a small scowl on his face. He didn't know what exactly the scowl was _for_, but it grew as he put the truck into reverse and watched her walk up the sidewalk. When he saw the interior light come on and the porch light flickered off, he eased out of the driveway.

Puck was confused. Really – no clue what the hell just happened. When he'd picked Rachel up that evening, she'd been all bouncy and happy and, "It was so chivalrous of you to offer me a ride Noah," and giggling and blushing while she sat practically in the middle of the truck. Then, at the Hummels' house, she'd been way happier than he'd kinda expected, considering the Finn-and-Quinn show that was in full swing by the end of the night. She'd let him lead her around with his hand on the small of her back, even leaning into it a few times when Santana said something bitchy that he knew hurt Rachel's feelings even though he also knew Santana was saying it more out of habit than to actually be mean. Then, they get in the truck to come home, and the closer they get to her house, the weirder she gets. She started getting all hesitant sounding, and kind of like, unsure of everything she was saying, and that made him feel all weird and unsure. And then he was like, nervous or whatever, about being alone with a girl in his truck, and he just didn't _do _that shit. Seriously, it was like she was bipolar or something, 'cause one minute they're on the swing in Kurt's back yard and she's got her legs thrown across his lap and her head on his shoulder and he's kinda tickling that spot behind her knee and –

_Oh. Shit._

At that point, Puck's truck was kind of just sitting all the way across the little two-lane residential street, still facing into her driveway, and he could see that the front hall light was still on and her bedroom light wasn't on yet, so she was probably still downstairs. He cut the wheel and backed up a little more before throwing the truck into first and pulling forward just until he was parked parallel to the curb.

What the hell was wrong with him? That shit was a date! He was pretty sure it hadn't started off that way, even in Rachel's mind, but every time he touched her, or went to refill her drink, or steered them to an area with two open seats then proceeded to drop a hand to her thigh or wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, he pushed it just a bit farther into date territory. Then somewhere along the way, probably about the time he was pulling her down to sit between his legs by the fire pit, his hands resting on her hips and her back pressing against his chest, if he had to put his finger on an exact moment, it became a full-on, official, first date. And not locking that shit down with a good night kiss? Not cool! And not just 'cause it was like, tradition to seal the deal with a kiss, but because it was _Rachel _and she was hot and a really good kisser (_and yeah, okay, maybe after really hangin' out with her for the night he realized there were some actual, like, __**feelings **__there or whatever – small ones_) and he would pretty much take any excuse to kiss her. Ever. No wonder she got all weird and fidgety and like freaked out or whatever. She's sittin' there thinkin' she's on a date, probably expecting him to try for a hell of a lot more than just one kiss (hello, it's Puck – not exactly known for being shy), and he's basically saying, "See ya around. Don't get lost on your way to the front door."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't _that _bad, but he wasn't exactly smooth and shit either. Which, okay, _that _makes a lot more sense now too. 'Cause he was tripping over his words almost as bad as she was, and Puck just doesn't _do_ like, nervous around girls. Sure, he'd been a little off his game with Lauren, but have you _seen _that chick? He had a right to be freaked out. But here he is with Rachel Berry – tiny, gorgeous, voice for days and tanned, toned legs for miles – sitting in his truck waiting for him to make a move, and his whole brain, like, shuts down. It had to be that whole ambiguous, not-really-sure-what-exactly-was-going-on thing messing with his head and throwing him off his game. Had to be.

Puck checked the house one more time, and as far as he could tell, she was probably still downstairs, which meant he could knock loud enough to get her attention without having to be so loud that he would wake up her dads. She'd assured him that they were cool with him and all, but he didn't wanna push that shit. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. He jumped out of the truck, taking the extra second necessary to actually _close _the door and not just slam it. He probably should have been glad that it was almost 12:30 a.m. and therefore he didn't have to worry about the Berrys' neighbors watching him sprinting across their front lawn, but he couldn't bring himself to care that much. All he could be bothered to notice was that when he was about three steps from the front porch, the inside of the house went dark. He picked up the pace and was catching his breath at the front door not quite a second later.

_**I turned off the car  
>Ran through the yard<br>Back to your front door  
>Before I could knock<br>You turned the lock  
>And met me on the front porch<br>And I kissed you  
>Goodnight<br>And now that I've kissed you  
>It's a good night good night baby goodnight<strong>_

_**~.~**_

_**You couldn't see me  
>Watching through the window<br>Wondering what went wrong  
>Praying that you wouldn't go<br>You should have kissed me  
>You should have pushed me up against the wall<br>You should have kissed me  
>I was right on the edge and ready to fall<strong>_

Rachel pressed her back into the sturdy wood of her fathers' front door and reached blindly to her side until she found the double light switch, flipping one switch down and the other up, simultaneously illuminating the foyer and cutting off the light to the porch. At that moment, the one thing she really, truly wanted more than anything else was the ability to just dissolve herself into a puddle on the hardwood floor. (She was pretty sure she remembered seeing a show like that when she was a young girl, and the idea sounded particularly wonderful to her at that moment.) But, since that wasn't really a possibility, she would move on to option number two. She _had _to know where she had messed up. She needed to know where her and Noah's lovely evening – _she _had certainly believed it to be lovely – had gone awry.

She didn't think it was her normal problem of wanting things too much. To be honest, she hadn't really thought about Noah much over the past nine months, so she certainly wasn't guilty of desiring him too deeply. Sure, he had crossed her mind, in that same abstract way she had thought of all her old New Directions friends at different times, especially when she heard a certain song or saw something that reminded her of one of them, but they were passing thoughts. And when she had run into him at the gas station that morning, the reunion had held the same warmth and joy that she had felt when she had gotten together with Tina a few days earlier, before everyone else had made it back into town, but she hadn't noticed any particular spark – certainly no romantic feelings – upon seeing him. So when he asked if she was going to be at Kurt and Finn's that night for the New Directions reunion and she sadly told him that she didn't think she would be able to attend because she was just on her way to drop her car off for a routine check- up (and yes, he'd laughed at her when she said "routine check-up") and likely wouldn't have transportation, she didn't look at his offer to give her a ride as anything more than that. So no, she knew that this time her mistake hadn't been one of wanting it – wanting _him _– too much.

She also didn't think the problem was that she came across as desperate or clingy or whatever other word had been used to describe her over the past several months by men – boys, really – who just didn't understand her very passionate personality. First, Noah _did _understand her personality. He got that she was just loud and, okay, sometimes overbearing, and that she had this intrinsic desire, a _need _really, to have people's attention. And because he did get her, because he had known her for so long, and probably better than nearly anyone else (though neither of them ever discussed that point out loud, with one another or anyone else), Noah would know that what was considered desperate and clingy by the handful of men she had gone on a date or two with in New York could have passed for aloof by high school Rachel's standards. Secondly, Rachel _hadn't _been desperate or clingy – by any standards. Sure, she had been in a lovely mood when he had picked her up, and she'd had so much to say to him on the short drive that she could easily have been described as bubbly, even giddy (she heard Kurt's voice echoing the word 'manic' in her head), but she was simply catching up with an old friend, and she could tell by the way Noah grinned at her any time he took his eyes off the road that he was okay with it. And when they'd arrived at the get-together, she'd thanked him for the ride and then she'd been the one to put some distance between them, leaving him in the family room with Mike and Sam while she headed off to the kitchen to catch up with Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana, all of whom she hadn't seen since the winter holiday break. By the time Kurt came in to drag the girls out to socialize with everyone else, the whole club had arrived and everyone was spilling out into the back yard, where Blaine and Sam were tending the grill and the others were just kind of lounging about. She had just been on her way to say hello to Finn and Quinn, whom she hadn't seen earlier, when Noah swooped in and hovered over her as if he were just waiting to catch her when she fell apart. (She wasn't going to, for the record.) Honestly, she kept kind of waiting for him to realize that seeing Finn and Quinn very obviously flirting wasn't going to break her and go back to 'shooting the shit,' as he liked to say, with the guys, leaving her to find something or someone else to entertain herself. He never did. If anything, he became more attentive, possibly even affectionate, as the night went on, touching her nearly constantly and staying at her side throughout the entire evening. So no, she couldn't see how Noah's confusing change in demeanor from the Hummels' house to her driveway could possibly be attributed to him finding her to be either desperate or clingy.

Rachel turned, pushing aside the curtain over the door's window just enough to peek out with one eye. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her, because then all that stuff about her decidedly not seeming desperate or clingy? Yeah, right out the … well, window. She watched him back slowly down her driveway, a little worried that he was going to back right over Mrs. Miller's azaleas because honestly, he appeared to be paying much more attention to his steering wheel than to whatever might be behind him. That would _not _be good. She already had the feeling that she wasn't the only one watching Noah leave her house after midnight; the last thing they needed was for the old busybody to come running down the sidewalk in her nightgown, screeching about her precious flowers. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the truck rolled to a stop about a foot short of the shoulder of the road. When Noah finally lifted his eyes from the steering wheel and fixed his gaze on the door, Rachel gently moved the curtain back into place and dropped her forehead against the fabric.

Deep inside, she knew that he had only stopped so he could shift gears – it wasn't as if he could make the entire drive home in reverse. But still, she couldn't stop the bloom of hope (and just a little bit of confusion and agony) that grew up in her chest when the truck stopped moving. She desperately hoped he would get out and come to her, if only so she could ask what exactly went wrong on their date to have him leaving so … awkwardly. (And well, if he'd wanted to throw in a good night kiss while he was at it, she certainly wouldn't argue with the custom.)

_Wait, did she just call it a date? Well that's … hmm._

And so while she waited, her forehead still pressed against the window and the light from his headlights glowing even through the curtain, Rachel slipped back into her head, trying to pinpoint when the evening stopped being a group gathering that Noah drove her to and became a date with Noah (even if that particular definition existed only in her own mind). It could have been the moment he started guiding her around the backyard with his hand resting low on her back, but she hadn't thought much of it at the time. And really, Noah had always been a very physical, touch-driven person, so even in hind-sight that didn't seem exceptionally date-like to her. It also could have been somewhere around the first time that same hand on her back had steered her far from Finn when they went to take a seat with the others spread throughout the yard, but again, that didn't really seem significant enough to transition the evening from 'outing' to 'date.' If anything, it felt more protective than jealous.

She started to think maybe trying to pinpoint a moment was oversimplifying the situation. Maybe it wasn't a moment that had made her feel that her evening with Noah was _more, _maybe it was the sum of many moments, many kind gestures and soft touches and whispered words. Maybe it was all those things combined with the way he hummed into her hair while she rested between his thighs by the fire and the way he ran his fingers over her legs and whispered that she smelled "awesome" when she sat practically on his lap as he used his feet to sway them gently in the swing.

The one small bit of relief that Rachel felt as she replayed the events of the evening came from being convinced in the fact that the outward displays of affection – flirting, even – had not been one-sided on her part, and that even if she had fabricated the entire 'date' in her mind, it wasn't without good cause. Of course, none of that explained why the night had ended so abruptly in her driveway, without the goodnight kiss she expected (_hoped_) he would try for, or even a proper goodbye.

It was weird, really, Rachel thought as she turned to walk away from the door after finally seeing the glow from Noah's headlights sweep away from the front of her house and point up her street. Twelve hours earlier, she would have told anyone that she didn't even _want _a kiss from Noah Puckerman; of _course _she didn't. He was just an old friend, someone she shared occasional texts and rare phone calls with. But after one evening together, a few happy hours, she couldn't stop asking herself why – Why on earth had Noah Puckerman, of all people, not tried for even one kiss after all that? Why had he just dropped her off in her driveway without even so much as a crude joke or lascivious comment? _Why didn't he want her?_

Rachel was nearly to the living room when she noticed that she could no longer hear the low rumble of the truck's engine.

_Well, that's that, I suppose._

And even though she hadn't really expected him to stay – just hoped against hope, really – she couldn't help the way her shoulders slumped and her heart dropped into her stomach when that last shred of hope was pulled just out of her grasp. Unwilling to go to bed with a broken heart (_okay, so maybe that was a __**bit **__dramatic, but … lowered spirits – there, that seemed perfectly reasonable_), Rachel headed for the dvd rack to find something to take her mind off of stupid Noah Puckerman and his stupid flirting and his stupid lips that really were so good at kissing her and … She jumped when she was certain she heard a noise outside. Of course, that (thankfully) startled her off of the truly ridiculous train of thought her brain was just beginning to embark upon. She turned on her heel and walked quickly right back to the front door to investigate the origin of the surprising noise. She lived in a very peaceful neighborhood; she and her fathers were the only people on the block under the age of 60, so a noise outside at 12:30 on a Friday night when the three of them were all in the house was quite noteworthy.

Rachel again pushed the curtain to one side discreetly and gasped out loud when she saw a very familiar navy pick-up parked just in front of her house and an even more familiar form running – very quickly, at that – up the sidewalk straight toward her. Well, straight toward the door, but she was just behind it, so it was the same thing, really. Her mind racing, she took a step back and let the curtain fall closed.

_Was he … Did he … Maybe? _

She wouldn't allow herself to really believe that he was coming back for the reason she hoped he was, because though that seemed to be a perfectly logical conclusion to draw (she really couldn't think of another reason for him to be coming back, even if she told herself there must be dozens), nothing about her night had been logical. Still, she reached out to turn off the foyer light to avoid drawing any unwanted attention when she opened the door to receive her guest. (Mrs. Miller, remember? If she wasn't already watching, Rachel didn't want her to start now. And if she was, well, maybe the added darkness would help.)

Gripping the doorknob in one hand, Rachel smoothed the other over the front of her skirt and took a deep breath. She plastered on a smile that she hoped was both casual and warm and pulled the door open so that she was standing face-to-face with a slightly winded Noah Puckerman.

_**So I turned off the car  
>Ran through the yard<br>Back to your front door  
>Before I could knock<br>You turned the lock  
>And met me on the front porch<br>And I kissed you  
>Goodnight<br>And now that I've kissed you  
>It's a good night good night baby goodnight<strong>_

_**~.~**_

_**I turned off the car  
>ran through the yard<br>back to your front door  
>Half scared to death can't catch my breath<br>Aren't these the moments we live for**_

"Noah?" Rachel stopped in the doorway, one hand on the door frame and the other still lightly gripping the knob, and one foot sliding anxiously over the other. "Did you forget something?" _Did you decide it was a date?_

Puck shuffled his feet on the porch and shoved his hands in his back pockets, clearing his throat and nodding his head without making eye contact. _I didn't forget, I just fucked it up._

"Oh." She was kind of hoping to get a little more to go off of. Sure, she was bright, intuitive even, but Noah? Not the easiest person to read. And as the last 10 minutes had shown her, it was not a good idea to jump to conclusions when it came to him. "Well, is there something … I mean, can I help you in some way?" _Are you going to kiss me now?_

Rachel just stood there, still gripping the doorknob in one hand and the door frame in the other, as Puck nodded again and took two steps toward her, nearly closing the gap between them entirely. He continued to stare down at her feet as he moved toward her, and that just kinda pissed him off. 'Cause again, he just doesn't _do _that nervous shit. So whatever the hell had been wrong with him, it was time to fix it. He swallowed once, hard, then dragged his eyes slowly (probably spending more time than was absolutely necessary on her legs) up her body until he reached her face. And _fuck_, her face. Her eyes were all big and brown and just kind of staring back at him and one corner of her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and it was so pink and plump and kind of just begging to be kissed. For a second all he could think about was how much of an idiot he was for not taking care of that the first time around, but finally his brain caught up and her voice echoed in his head, asking if she could help him, and then she was tilting her head like she was waiting for his answer. "I … uh." _I'm gonna kiss you now._

Know what, screw it. Puck had never exactly had the best way with words, and apparently, since about the time he had pulled up in front of Rachel's house, words had decided to fuck his life. So – done with words. He really kinda had his mind set on doing something else with his mouth anyway. He pulled his hands from his pockets and dropped one to her hip before sliding it around to the middle of her back and tugging her toward him. It didn't take much, because nearly as soon as his fingers pressed into her skin, Rachel was leaning forward and letting herself fall into him. He dipped his head to meet her when she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, and when his lips pressed against hers – soft and warm and pliant under his own – he thought, again, for a fraction of a second about how stupid he had been for even considering leaving without making this happen. But then, his brain was taken over by thoughts of the little hand on his shoulder, gripping and pulling him closer, and another hand, fingers sliding through his hair and nails scratching _just right _over his scalp, and even of his own hands, both of which were now on Rachel's ribcage, holding her there like she might spook and run away if he let go. (She wasn't going anywhere.)

As soon as Noah touched her, Rachel felt like she was falling, and she just let it happen. She let herself fall until her body was pressed to his. She fell until his hands were on her sides, thumbs rubbing over her ribs, and her hands were grabbing – for his shoulder, his hair, anything to catch herself. Only, she just kept falling, until his lips met hers. And _oh,_ they were so perfect. His lips were full and soft, and suddenly they were both wrapped around her bottom one and they were sucking and tugging and even massaging a little, and _oh my, just how does he do that?_ And then she wasn't falling anymore. She was flying.

Puck felt Rachel sigh into the kiss and released her lip, grinning against her mouth as she mimicked his actions back to him. He pulled her tighter against him, digging his fingers into her back, when just the tip of her tongue traced the outline of his lip then slipped back into her own mouth. Without a conscious decision on his part, his feet moved to walk them back until Rachel's back was flush against the doorframe. He let her tease him a bit more, her tongue darting out to tickle his top lip, then the bottom one again, because he could feel the little smirk she wore and he knew she was enjoying herself.

Rachel was honestly a little surprised that Noah had let her control the kiss as long as he had. Even as his body was pressing closer and closer, until finally his chest was flat against hers and her head was tilted nearly all the way back, he continued to let her take the lead. It was a little scary, because she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. She could count on one hand the number of boys she'd kissed since going to New York, and those kisses were all quick and straight-forward and, while nice enough, not very exciting. But this, with Noah, was like a game. It was teasing, and give and take, and just _fun_.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, while she was focusing on trying to memorize the contours of his beautiful lips (because she didn't think she could bear it if she ever forgot), Rachel registered that Noah's hands had left her body. While she wasn't entirely surprised (she knew it would have to end sometime, and they were, after all, standing on her front porch at close to one a.m.), she couldn't say she wasn't disappointed. Still, she had just prided herself on not being that clingy, needy girl so far, and she wasn't about to start. She backed off a little, lowering herself just a bit and moving her lips softly and slowly over his, then gasped, surprised, when Noah's warm hands landed on her face – his palms cupping her jaw while his thumbs smoothed over her cheekbones and the tips of his fingers danced along her neck and in her hair behind her ears. He took advantage of catching her off guard, his tongue slipping past her lips and over her own without warning. He tasted warm and sweet, and even a little smoky, like the marshmallows he had insisted on shoving directly into the bonfire so that they were black before he would eat them. It was pleasant, and even a little comforting, and somehow completely Noah, and when he started to withdraw just a little, she pushed herself back up to follow him, chasing that taste.

Puck groaned when he started to pull back and Rachel came right along with him. He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up – both his lungs and the back of his neck were on fire – but he knew he really didn't want to stop. That was even more true when Rachel's tongue swept through his mouth with a confidence completely unlike her earlier behavior. She giggled coyly when he growled and tugged on the lock of hair he had wrapped around his middle and index fingers. He felt her teeth sink into his bottom lip and pull, letting go just before she dropped back to her heels, looking up at him through her eyelashes and breathing heavily. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down to trace nonsense patterns over her arms, and dropped his forehead to the cool wood just above her head.

Rachel had wanted nothing less than to stop that kiss. But she was completely breathless, and her neck was aching, and she could only imagine how uncomfortable Noah must have been. Dropping her eyes to watch his chest rise and fall heavily beneath his t-shirt, she moved her hands to his sides and twisted the fabric in her fists. "I'm really glad you didn't leave without that."

Puck smiled a little at the quiet, airy, un-Rachel-like quality of her voice. "Me too." He wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her with him as he took a step back from the wall. His hands fell away from her then locked together behind her back, encircling her in his arms.

"So," Rachel sucked in a breath when she felt Noah's muscles tighten and clench beneath the finger she ran along his side, "I know it's late, but if you don't need to go right now, do you want to come in? Maybe watch a movie or something?" She finally lifted her head to look at him fully, hopefully.

Puck smirked, because really? She'd have to like, run him out of there with a baseball bat or some shit to get rid of him at that point. "I got some time."

"Good." She smiled up at him and took a step closer until her chest brushed his when she inhaled. "Although, I should probably warn you, my couch is _very _comfortable."

"Warn me?" Puck narrowed his eyes and looked at her in confusion.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, "once people find themselves on it, they tend to have a very hard time getting up to leave again." Her eyes danced and she was doing a horrible job of containing her smile.

He lowered his head until his nose brushed hers, and he could see her little shiver when his breath washed over her. "I guess that's just a risk I'll have to take."

Rachel didn't hesitate to close the already small gap between their lips to kiss him again, pulling on his shirt and dragging him with her as she backed into the house.

So, there was a very good chance that one of the Daddies Berry would come down in the morning to find him asleep on their couch. And that 'home before morning' curfew his mom had set up? Yeah, she'd be pissed about him breaking that. But all it would take to calm his ma down was two words – Rachel Berry – and he knew for a fact that the Berrys were against guns, and like, violence in general, so like he said, it was a risk he was willing to take.

_**And I kissed you  
>Goodnight<br>And now that I've kissed you  
>It's a good night good night baby goodnight<br>**_


	20. Come Over

**Come Over – Kenny Chesney**

_**I turn the tv off, to turn it on again  
>Staring at the blades of the fan as it spins around<br>Counting every crack, the clock is wide awake  
>Talking to myself, anything to make a sound <strong>_

Rachel's fingers tightened around the bottles she had just picked up when she felt her back pocket begin to vibrate. It was just minutes from two a.m. on a Tuesday night (_Wednesday morning_). She didn't need to look at the phone to know who was calling. She cradled the beer bottles in her right hand against her body so that she could manage to wrap the fingers of her left hand around their necks, in addition to the ones she already held with that hand. She fished the phone out of her pocket, knowing that she had only a couple seconds before the call went to voicemail. A voice inside her head said she should just let it go, but, because she felt guilty, or because she had no will power, or maybe because it would be an all-too-apt metaphor for actually _letting go _(which even she didn't believe she had done, despite her many protests to the contrary), she tapped the screen without even looking at it to answer the call. "Noah," she sighed, and she pushed down the flood of memories of the hundreds _(thousands?) _of other times she had sighed his name.

"I can't sleep."

"Noah," she sighed again, not quite exasperated, more sad than anything. "We can't … I mean_ I _can't … We just can't keep doing this."

"I haven't slept in like, three days Rachel." Her heart clenched at the unspoken '_And I didn't call the last two.'_ "I gotta get some fuckin' sleep. Please." She sat in one of the chairs at the table she had just finished clearing, setting down the bottles she had been on the way to throw away and cringing when one of them clattered loudly to the floor.

"Noah …" She repeated his name. And she knew that she hadn't said much else so far, but it was two in the morning and she had been working since four that afternoon, and now he was calling and asking her to come over and she was exhausted. (And not just physically. She'd been emotionally drained for weeks. These phone calls certainly did nothing to help that.)

"_Please._" She could swear she heard his voice crack. And no one would believe her if she said it aloud, but then no one knew him quite like she did,

Rachel dropped her forehead into her free hand and pressed her thumb and middle finger into her temples. It was a bad idea. It was a horrible, awful, _destructive_ idea. She should finish cleaning her tables, wrap up her sidework (salt and pepper shakers tonight, thank goodness, marrying ketchup bottles was just such a messy job) and go slip as quietly as possible into Laura's guest room.

"It'll be about 30 minutes," she finally breathed into the phone.

"Thank you." She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to ignore the way the whispered words sounded so coarse and raw.

Rachel jumped when a hip bumped her shoulder, pulling her back to earth. She tried not to look annoyed when she looked up into the grinning face of her co-worker. "Booty call, Broadway? Nice."

She didn't even bother to try to correct the other girl. It would take far too much time and energy, and honestly, probably wouldn't change her misconception anyway. (It didn't help that she wouldn't be able to convincingly assert that the night wouldn't end in sex, since it's hard to tell a lie you don't believe yourself.) To be honest, she wished it was a 'booty call.' It would be much simpler, far less painful for both of them, that way.

"Excuse me, Taylor," she bent under the table to retrieve the empty bottle from beside the girl's foot. When she came back up, she saw her co-worker and kinda-maybe-friend looking around the area, appraising Rachel's tables.

"You're 'bout done here, huh?"

"Well, yes, I just need to -,"

"What's your side tonight?"

"Umm, salt and pepper. Why?"

"Gimme that," Taylor took a step toward Rachel and grabbed for the bottles in her hands, easily gripping all five of them in the long fingers of one hand. "I got you." She shooed at Rachel with her free hand. "Sounds like you got someone waiting. Go on."

"Oh no," Rachel reached to take the bottles back, "that's not -,"

"You already cash out with John?"

"Yes. My last tab closed out about 15 minutes ago."

"Then out you go." The perky blonde turned Rachel with one hand on her shoulder then patted her butt. "I'll finish you up here." Rachel could feel the other girl right behind her. "Just make sure you have some fun for me." She was close enough for her breath to move Rachel's hair when she punctuated the statement with a giggle, but when Rachel spun on her heel to protest again, Taylor was halfway to the kitchen.

_**I told you I wouldn't call, I told you I wouldn't care  
>But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere<br>I don't think that I can take this bed getting any colder  
>Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over<strong>_

Rachel used the key she knew she needed to give back (and she had tried, but he had refused to take it – maybe this time she would just leave it on the table or something when she left) to let herself into thei- _his_ apartment and heard him in the kitchen.

"I was makin' you some tea." He spoke to her without turning from the microwave as she stood in the doorway. "You prob'ly wanna let it cool a little." He lifted one shoulder as he pulled her mug from the microwave. "You're earlier than I expected." He spooned a scoop of sugar into the cup and poured in just a touch of soy milk from the small carton she hadn't noticed until just then before finally turning to face her. "You were workin'." She nodded and watched his eyes scan her body. She knew was noticing her jeans. When she had started at the sports bar where she now spent most of her nights, the service manager had simply answered, _'Look cute,'_ when Rachel asked about dress code. She had learned very quickly that she would have to amend her idea of 'cute' (and not for the reasons Kurt used to harass her about) to include far more pants and fewer (no) skirts. Noah had come in with a couple friends on her first night of work to support her, and she very nearly lost her job and had to bail her boyfriend out of jail because of one of those skirts. She went shopping the next day and invested in a few pairs of jeans especially for work.

"Don't usually work Tuesdays." It was a simple observation, not particularly emotional, and the contrast of the way the statement sounded compared to the way he had sounded on the phone was striking.

"I kind of need the money." She slid her palms over her jeans at her hips. She hated the way they always seemed to sweat when she was with him now. "And I didn't have anything else to do." She tucked just the ends of her fingers into her pockets and shrugged, hoping to pull off nonchalance but knowing she was probably failing miserably.

Puck's eyes widened and he took a step away from the counter, starting to reach for her. "B, if you need help-,"

"Don't." She shook her head and lowered her eyes to study the pattern of the linoleum – a pattern she was more than familiar with. "Please … just don't." She lifted her head when she heard him take a step back. He pulled the tea bag from her mug then dropped it into the sink and made his way to her, cradling the mug in both hands.

"Prob'ly good now." She knew his eyes were fixed on hers, even while they stared straight ahead and landed on his collarbone. She didn't think she could speak when he was that close to her, so she just nodded and accepted the cup from him, trying to ignore the tingling that started in her stomach and spread outward when he gently, deliberately ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "I'm just gonna go …" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the living room and she nodded.

Rachel let him get a few steps away before she turned to follow him, carrying the mug carefully with both hands. When she got to the living room, she found him slouched on the couch, long legs stretched leisurely in front of him and hands folded on top of his stomach. The television was on what looked to be Nick-at-Nite with the volume so low she could hardly hear it. She tucked herself into the armchair that used to sit in his mother's living room in Lima, pulling one foot under herself and finally taking a careful sip of her tea. "It's good. Thank you." He only nodded and watched her set it on the end table after another small sip.

She played with her fingers for a moment before speaking again. It seemed like this should get easier over time, but if anything, it only got worse. "Noah, why did you call me?"

"Can't sleep." He wouldn't look at her.

"Yes. You said that when you called, but … We can't keep doing this Noah. You can't keep calling me like this. It's not good for either of us. It's … it's … it's not _healthy_, Noah."

"I don't sleep without you." His head stayed down but his eyes lifted to meet hers, and she had to swallow down the lump in her throat at the pain she saw there. "I _can't _sleep without you, Rachel."

"But-,"

"And I know I told ya just to go and that I'd be fine and I'd get over it. And I know you said me callin' just makes it worse and I know I told ya I'd stop, 'cause I don't wanna ever fuckin' hurt you. But – shit!"

She wrapped her arms around herself when his body hinged forward and he rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. She couldn't help but bite her lip at the way his fingers seemed to dig into his scalp.

"I guess I lied." He shook his head in his hands. "I guess I'm just a big fuckin' liar, 'cause I can't stop callin' and I'm sure as hell not fine."

_**You can say we're done the way you always do  
>It's easier to lie to me than to yourself<br>Forget about your friends  
>You know they're gonna say<br>We're bad for each other  
>But we ain't good for anyone else<strong>_

Rachel shifted in the chair, tucking both feet under herself and resting her weight on her heels. She watched him, unmoving, on the couch for several long minutes. She jumped when he finally moved, dropping his hands to his thighs and pushing himself up off the couch. He didn't say a word to her as he stepped around the chair she was in and moved back toward the kitchen. She studied her own hands until she heard him coming back, and then she turned to watch him over the back of the chair. He made his way back around her to his spot on the couch and took a long draw from the beer he now held before setting the bottle onto the end table next to her tea and locking his eyes on his own feet.

"You … you do understand why this is such a bad idea, right? Calling me like this to come over?"

"I know what you keep sayin'." She tightened her arms around her waist to control the shivering that was completely ridiculous, since the apartment was plenty warm enough.

"Noah, please don't do this. You know as well as I do that-,"

"No."

Rachel jumped when Puck's head snapped up and his eyes focused on hers. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't ignore the redness in them, or the way the skin under them was dark and tight. If she had thought for even a second when he called that he was lying to her about not sleeping (_she_ _hadn't – dishonesty was never a problem between them, she knew he never lied to her_), she would have stopped doubting then.

"See, Rachel, that's the thing. I _don't _know." He pushed himself forward so that he was sitting on the very edge of the couch and leaning toward her, the weight of his upper body supported by his forearms resting on his knees. "You keep tellin' me I shouldn't call. We shouldn't talk. You shouldn't come over. But that doesn't make any fuckin' sense to me, 'cause what I _do_ know is that," she felt the tears burning the backs of her eyes when he shook his head and chuckled darkly, standing up and pointing down at her, "when we're not talkin', when you're not here, I don't know what the hell I'm doin'." He turned away from her and made a complete circle around the coffee table before stopping just in front of her chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger.

"What …" she cleared her throat and tried to compose herself a little before continuing, "what exactly _are _you doing, Noah? I mean," she glanced around the apartment. Honestly, she would have expected it to be messy, in a state of complete disarray, even, but if she hadn't seen him sitting in front of her, she would almost believe that the apartment had been uninhabited for the last few weeks. Everything looked exactly the same as the day she had left (and every day she had been back since), like he wasn't even living in his own home. "Have you talked to any of your friends? Or your agent maybe? Have you gotten out at all?

Puck scoffed. "I'm not exactly the most fun person to be around these days, Rach. But yeah, I had a meeting with the label guys Saturday. Real exciting stuff there." He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, well, that's good. Your work is important." His work – his success and his happiness – was so important to her that she was willing to walk away to make sure she didn't get in the way of it. "And are you taking care of yourself? I mean, I hope you're not trying to survive on fast food and take-out. Do you remember which grocery store I shopped at? The one that carried those blueberry waffles you like so much?"

"Yeah, ya know what, why don'tcha go check out the kitchen for yourself. Won't find much more than five more 'a these," he picked up his beer and tilted it toward her before downing what was left in the bottle, "and enough 'a _that_" he used the bottle to point at her mug of no longer steaming tea before dropping it roughly back to the table, "to last me a lifetime."

"Oh Noah," she sighed and her face dropped, "you know how bad all that processed food is. The additives and the sodium, and even the hormones that are added. Proper nutrition and rest are so important."

"It's cool," he lifted both hands in front of his chest, palms facing her, almost waving her off, "'cause most 'a the time, I don't really think about eatin' anyway."

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, letting her feet fall to the floor, both hands gripping the armrests. Of course she had never expected the break-up to be easy on him – it was killing her, and she was the one who left – but he had not been handling it well at all, and rather than getting better with time, it seemed to be getting worse. She barely recognized him as Noah anymore.

"And well," he lifted his arms and looked around the room almost desperately, "I think we both know I'm not sleepin', so …"

"I'm so sorry, Noah. Really, it hurts me _so much _to see you like this," he looked like he didn't believe her, and she wished she could make him understand the pain she felt in her chest every time he called and said he needed her, every time she showed up to find him like this (_though, this definitely seemed to be the worst case; she found herself fighting back tears every time she looked up at those eyes that used to be her whole world to find them so … broken_) only to know that she wasn't really helping him. He couldn't see that she wasn't good for him. "But, I don't think this is helping. I mean ma-maybe what you need, what _we _need, is a clean break." She had to close her eyes for a few extra seconds when his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Just yesterday Laura and I were talking and -,"

"Look, I like Laura, okay?" She hadn't expected him to interrupt, and she stared up at him as he spoke. "I mean, she's a cool enough chick and I'm really glad she's givin' you a place to stay – well, no, I'm not actually." His jaw tensed and he shook his head, "'Cause maybe if she hadn't jumped in there and gave ya a room right away, you'da had to stay long enough to figure out how fucked this is, but still, I don't got a problem with Laura."

Rachel shouldn't have been surprised by his comment. And she wasn't, really. But that didn't mean it hurt any less. And did he really think she didn't know how 'fucked' it was, all of it? What did he think, that she _enjoyed _leaving work every night to go toss and turn in her friend's guest room? That when she woke every morning after a fitful night's sleep, at best, she was _relieved _to roll over and find the other side of the bed cold and empty? Yet, that didn't change the facts. No matter how much she continued to hurt, and no matter how much he was hurting at the moment, she couldn't come back, not really. She wasn't good for him. She wasn't good _enough _for him. And the only way he would figure that out was if he stopped calling, stopped having her come over, just stopped trying to make her a part of his life and actually moved on.

"But baby," Rachel's eyes, which she hadn't realized had been closed, flew open when she heard his voice much closer to her and felt his hands gripping the outsides of her thighs. She stared down at him where he knelt between her knees, his face open and honest and nearly pleading up at her. "I don't give a fuck what Laura said. Laura's not you, and she's sure as shit not me." His grip on her legs tightened, his fingers digging into the flesh through the denim of her jeans. "She don't get it, Rachel. _Nobody_ gets it – gets _us_." He inched forward on his knees, nudging her legs a little farther apart until he could fit fully between them, his chest flush with the front of the chair and his hands sliding up her legs to wrap around her at her hips. "And I know, Rach, I know we don't always make sense, from the outside lookin' in or whatever, but from where I stand, shit baby, this is the only Goddamn thing that makes sense."

It was things like that, moments like that when he said words like those, when Rachel thought she might break. Because for so long she had felt the exact same way. When everything was falling apart and she was losing role after role and he was the only part of her dream she had left to hold onto, she would have said those exact words (albeit with far less profanity). If she were to be perfectly honest with herself (something she desperately avoided lately), she would have to say that she still felt that way. The difference was, she had since realized that while maybe he was the only thing that made sense for her, she wasn't the only thing that made sense for him – she wasn't even the thing that made the _most _sense – and it wasn't fair for her to cling to him so selfishly. He deserved more than that. He deserved more than her.

_**I told you I wouldn't call, I told you I wouldn't care  
>But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere<br>I don't think that I can take this bed getting any colder  
>Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over<strong>_

"Have you tried anything else?"

"Hmm?" Rachel felt Puck's sides vibrate against her legs when he hummed in question. It had been several minutes, but he hadn't moved other than to drop his head to her lap and relax his arms a little, letting his hands slide down once again to rest beside her legs, his thumbs moving in circles over the outsides of her thighs.

"To sleep. Have you tried anything?" She let her hand slide through his hair absent-mindedly. The mohawk was long gone, replaced by a much more modest style that was nearly all the same length, just a little longer on the top than the sides and back. At that moment, it was longer than she'd ever seen it, and she could tell that he'd missed his normal haircut by a week or more, but she had to admit that she liked the way the ends curled over her fingers as her nails traced lightly over his scalp.

"Shit, Rachel," he didn't look up at her, instead burying his face between her lower thighs so that his voice was muffled, but still easily discernible to her, "I told ya it's been three days, and I was really tryin' not to call, cause ya asked me not to." She didn't mean to flinch, and she hoped that he didn't feel the slight jerk of her hand on his head. "Yeah. I tried shit. I been in the bed – although I learned real fast that ain't gonna work, can't stay there more than five minutes – on the couch, tv on, tv off, music on, music off, hell, I even read a book." She fought the urge to ask him what book. She was curious if it had been the Springsteen biography she had given him for his birthday – she really believed he would be able to relate to the way the musician had translated his own life's hardships into world-renowned music. "I worked out for like, three hours this morning thinkin' maybe I'd wear myself out till I'd have to fall asleep. Finally gave in and took some 'a those sleeping pills you got when you were havin' all that anxiety about auditions and stuff."

"Oh." She brightened a little at the mention of the sleeping pills. It wasn't that she encouraged the use of pharmaceuticals to induce sleep (that's why there were still some left for him to take, she had all but refused to take them when they were prescribed to her), but he was obviously suffering, and at that point, she was happy for anything that would bring him relief. "When did you take those?" She had been in the apartment for about 30 minutes, and she didn't think he'd taken them since she arrived, so they should be kicking in any time.

Puck snorted. "'Bout four hours ago."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say to that.

After several minutes, Rachel began to think that maybe he'd fallen asleep right there on the floor. It would have been difficult, she imagined, to sleep while sitting up on his knees like that, but much of his upper body was propped against the chair, and she'd heard of people sleeping standing up, after all. Surely it wouldn't be any more difficult than that, and he was truly exhausted. But just as she let her fingers trail down out of his hair and gently over the strong set of his jaw, he moved, propping his chin on her leg just above her knee.

"Nothin' happened with her Rachel, I swear. I mean, I get that it prob'ly didn't look so great or whatever, but ya gotta know that nothin' at all went down."

"God, Noah!" She jerked her hands away from him so abruptly that he jumped a little and fell back onto his heels. She buried her hands in her own hair and tugged in frustration. "I know that!" She lifted one foot over his knees so she could stand out of the chair and turned her back to him, starting to pace as she yelled. "Do you really think I don't know that? Do you think I don't know you well enough to know that you didn't cheat on me? That you _wouldn't_ cheat on me?" She stopped in front of the window that used to provide her favorite view of the city and spun to face him, her hands coming up to cover her face for a second until they slid away to hang limply at her sides. The fire that had consumed her almost instantly when he felt the need to assure her, yet again, that he hadn't been unfaithful died out almost as quickly as it had started, and her voice was left soft and broken. "That's the point."

Puck gaped at her from where she had left him on the floor. "Okay, you know what, I know I've always joked about all your crazy or whatever, but that shit right there," he stabbed a finger in her direction, "that's fuckin' certifiable." He shook his head then let it drop when she didn't move. "You're seriously standin' here right now tellin' me you broke up with me 'cause you know I wouldn't cheat on you? What the hell, Rachel?"

"Well, no, Noah, I mean," she wrung her hands in front of her stomach, shaking her head desperately. "Of course that's not it exactly. You're right, that would be crazy. But," she stopped to wrap her arms around her now trembling body, tilting her head back and blinking furiously to fight back the tears that burned her eyes. "I walked in, and I saw you there with her, and I didn't feel angry or jealous or anything like that, because like I already said, I've never doubted your faithfulness to me. The one thing I did feel, and it probably broke my heart even more than the thought of you cheating would have, was that _that_ was what you deserved, that gorgeous girl who was just as talented as you and will be out there on the road with you proving it to everyone. _She_ was good enough for you, _she _was what you needed, and I wasn't, even if you were too loyal to me to admit it." Rachel finally lost the battle and hiccupped a little around the sob that forced its way out of her throat, swiping at the tears that streaked down her cheeks with the tips of her fingers. "And that nearly killed me."

_**We don't have to miss each other,  
>Come over<br>We don't have to fix each other,  
>Come over<br>You don't have to say forever,  
>Come over<br>You don't have to stay forever,  
>Come over<strong>_

Puck shot up from his spot on the floor and flew across the room, taking advantage of one of the first moments since she had broken up with him that he had managed to catch Rachel with her guard completely down, and enveloped her in his arms. He cradled her head to his chest with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, clinging to her hip in case she tried to pull away. "Jesus baby, I don't even know where to start with how many levels of wrong that is." He let his cheek fall to the top of her head as he continued. "So I guess first I just gotta say that I'm not _loyal_ to you, Rachel. I'm fuckin' in _love _with you. Big difference, B. And then second," he brushed his lips over the top of her head before pulling back and lifting both hands to her cheeks to force her head up so that he could see her eyes, "what is this shit about not bein' good enough or whatever? Come on, baby, you know better."

Rachel shook her head almost violently, grabbing at his wrists to pull his hands away from her. She turned away from him so she could ignore the way his shoulders fell when she backed away. "Please don't do that, Noah. Please."

"Don't do what, Rachel? Tell you the truth? Or is it the fact that I'm actually fighting for us that you don't like?" She heard anger in his voice, and she thought maybe that was for the best. "'Cause the way I see it, you're the one fuckin' everything up. And over what? Some little wannabe rock princess?"

"No!" She stomped her foot and threw her arms up in exasperation when she spun to face him again. "See, Noah, that's what you don't get."

"Then fill me in, for fucksakes!"

"_She's _not the wannabe, Noah, _I _am!" His mouth snapped shut nearly as quickly as it had opened and she watched him deflate as his anger seemed to melt out of him.

"What?"

"I was supposed to be a star, you know? Lessons and recitals and competitions and glee club and NYADA – all of it was supposed to be leading up to me being a star on Broadway. I saw my name in lights and standing ovations and Tonys." She took a deep, shuddering breath and backed a little farther away from him when he looked like he wanted to reach out for her again. "But all it really led to was a useless degree and a waitressing job at a place I can barely stand to look at and one rejection after another because I'm too short, or not blonde enough, or too loud, or not loud enough, or, what it really comes down to in the long run, not good enough." She took another step back when she recognized the softness in his eyes and he took a step forward.

"Even if all that were true, B, and it ain't, your role just hasn't come along yet, I don't see what that has to do with us. I mean," he brought one hand up to rub at the back of his neck, "_I _never said you weren't good enough, right? I mean, I guess there was maybe something I coulda done to help, but ya never asked me to help, and I don't really _know_ what I woulda done. I-," he cleared his throat and Rachel hated, _hated,_ that it sounded like he might have a lump in his throat almost as big as the one in hers, "I never made ya feel like you weren't good enough, did I?"

Rachel shook her head, ignoring the tears that had now become too much for her to fight. "No," she whispered. "No," she said again, louder, "but it's true. And it wasn't fair to you. You deserve someone more like her, more like you. I mean, you just recorded an album Noah, that's incredible."

"Yeah," he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head sadly, "and I wrote every one 'a those songs 'cause 'a you."

"And," she ignored him, "your shows here in the city have been tremendously successful. So you deserve to be with someone who is going to be as successful as you are. Someone like her – with talent and potential and that rising star factor, just like what you have."

"You're the most talented person I ever met, Rachel. Been sayin' that since I was 16." He took a step toward her, and she couldn't back up any farther without pressing her back into the glass of the window. If she couldn't avoid him physically, she would avoid what he was saying.

"You deserve someone who's beautiful -,"

"You're gorgeous." Another step closer.

"- and who's going to make something of herself."

"You're gonna be on Broadway. In a few years, that shelf's" he nodded toward the bookshelf in the corner, the one holding the pictures from every glee club performance and all of Rachel's NYADA performances and the show that had gotten Puck 'discovered' by his agent, as he took another step closer to her, "gonna be filled with Tonys."

"You deserve someone who's strong enough not to fail."

"You're the strongest person I know." He took the final step necessary to close the gap between them and Rachel dropped her head. "And you didn't fail."

She shivered when both of his hands came up to rest on the sides of her neck, his fingertips tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck and his thumbs pushing her chin up so that her nose brushed his along the way and his breath flowed smoothly and evenly out of his parted lips and across her own.

_**I told you I wouldn't call, I told you I wouldn't care  
>But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere<br>I don't think that I can take this bed getting any colder  
>Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over<strong>_

Puck's forehead came to rest against hers and Rachel's eyelids fluttered closed, and for a second she forgot that three weeks earlier she had packed up all her things to move into a guest bedroom 14 blocks away in an attempt to do what she knew was best for him. But then his thumbs started to push her chin just a little bit higher, and she realized that her own hands were moving to rest on his shoulders, and she remembered. She forced her hands to change direction, balling them into fists and shoving them against his chest. "No." She pulled her head back and away from him. "No, Noah. You've got to just stop this, okay?" She pushed against his chest again, but he only slid his hands down over her shoulders and held her against him by her arms.

"What's with the insecure shit, huh Rachel?" He shook her a little – not enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention when she tried to look away from him. "'Cause we already covered that you know I wasn't gonna cheat on ya, and I'm pretty fuckin' sure you've known for a while that I love you, right?" He waited a second for her to respond, and she could practically _feel _his eyes jumping over her face. "Right?"

"Of course, Noah." She watched the little bit of panic recede from his features.

"Then what's up?" As she opened her mouth to respond, he cut her off. "And I want the truth, Rachel, not some line. Bonus points if you can tell me without bringin' her up, 'cause I'm pretty damn sure it don't really got anything to do with her."

Puck's grip on her arms loosened and she took the opportunity to try to take a step back, but before she could put any actual distance between them, his hands had simply moved to her back, still holding her there. His persistence in holding onto her only angered her. It was a living metaphor for what was going on in their relationship and it needed to end. She took a deep breath, and he must have thought that she was calming herself, because his grip on her loosened. When it did, she used the fists that were still pressed to his chest to shove herself away from him, stumbling a little as she moved sideways to try to avoid the window but steadying herself and stopping when there were no less than four feet between them. For his part, Puck only gaped back at her, mouth wide and eyes unblinking as his hands fell to his sides.

"One thing, Noah!" He looked confused and hurt and she turned away from him so she could talk without having to see that look. "One thing in my life I've always had confidence in, thought I was really and truly good at, and that was performing. But it turns out," she shook her head and laughed a little, though there was no humor in it, "apparently I'm not very good at that either."

"Rach-," she lifted a hand without looking back at him and he stopped.

"And if I'm not good enough at that, the one thing I always thought made me special, then who the hell am I to think I'm good enough for you?" She turned to face him with something like a challenge on her face. "Because it's one thing for you to go off and become a rock star with a talented, successful Broadway star – Broadway _bound,_ even – girlfriend back home waiting for you. It's another thing entirely," she forced herself to look straight into his eyes. He had to get it now. He _had _to, "For you to go off and share your amazing talent with the world, all while being tied down to a cocktail waitress with a musical theater degree collecting dust on a shelf."

Puck shrugged. "So come with me."

"Noah, I," she shook her head at the simple, matter-of-fact way he said it, like it was just that easy. "That's not … It's not that simple."

"Sure it is." He began moving toward her again, and she just couldn't dig up the energy to continue avoiding him. "Those Broadway fuckers don't want you." The words felt almost like a slap in the face, but he didn't give her a second to respond. "I do. I got lotsa songs that can be duets. You know how incredible we are together." That was one thing she couldn't argue with, even if her recent failures had given her reason to believe it had much more to do with his talent, and even their raw chemistry, than with her own abilities. "One night on the stage with me and you'll remember how fuckin' amazing you are." He stopped just in front of her and ran his fingertips so lightly up her arms that she felt goosebumps popping up all over her skin. "So come with me."

The words were whispered in her ear and it made her so dizzy she had to reach for him to steady herself. He seemed to take the movement as an invitation and pressed his lips to her jaw just below her ear.

"We shouldn't …" his tongue followed her pulse down to her collarbone.

"Noah, this isn't …" he nipped his way across her collarbone before working his way back up the other side of her neck with a series of open-mouth kisses.

"It's not a good idea …" his hands trailed down her sides and his lips closed around her earlobe.

She knew what he was doing; it was the same thing he did every time he got her to come over. He was a man, Noah Puckerman at that, so she knew that the physical pleasure was certainly a factor, but she also knew that wasn't really why he was running his tongue _just right _over _that spot _on her neck and inching her shirt up just enough to let his fingers play over the bare skin of her stomach. He was doing it because he thought that he could make her remember just how good they were together. And she didn't want to remember, she _shouldn't _remember, because that might mean forgetting how bad she was for him. But then his tongue was sliding across hers, and his hands were working the button of her jeans, and he was walking her toward the bedroom, and she was letting him.

Moments later, Rachel was tumbling backward onto the bed that for so long had been hers, and Puck's hands were sliding inside her jeans and her panties and dragging them both down her legs, all while she was tugging at the hem of the wife beater he wore with his low-slung flannel pajama pants. Once her pants and underwear were below her knees, she took over kicking them off and he lifted his arms over his head to let her peel the thin cotton shirt off his body. In the next second, she was sitting up to let him remove her own shirt and bra, then his arms were around her waist and he was lifting and turning and laying her out on the bed until her hair fanned behind her on the pillows. He kissed her so hard she thought he might bruise her lips while she clung to his back and shoulders and used her feet to hook in the elastic of his pants and shove them over his hips and down to his calves. Puck grabbed both of her legs behind her knees and hiked them high on his hips, and when he pressed his forehead to hers and buried himself inside her, Rachel watched his eyes squeeze closed then felt the two small teardrops that dropped off his eyelashes and fell to her cheeks. By the time they rolled off her cheeks and onto the pillow, she knew, the tears were no longer his, but a mixture of both of theirs.

It wasn't long, just a handful of minutes, before she was sobbing his name, squeezing her thighs around his hips, and digging her nails into his back. It was always like that, those last few weeks. He'd always known how to touch her and satisfy her; he was an expert at reading and playing her body. But since she'd ended their relationship, since she'd tried desperately to shut him out, it was like the second she finally gave in and let him inside (_and yes, she meant that both literally and figuratively_) he set her on fire from the inside out. And he was never far behind, gathering her even more tightly into his arms and burying his head in her neck as he let her orgasm pull his own out of him.

Afterward, once he'd gone to the adjoining bathroom and returned with a warm cloth that he used on both of them then tossed into the hamper in the corner, she laid on her side, one hand propping her head up so she could watch his face finally transform into a sort of calm and peace and the other running through his soft curls then down his back and all the way up again. She always stayed until she helped him fall asleep. It was, after all, why he called.

She watched him – the rhythmic rise and fall of his back, the way one hand curled under his pillow and the other hung off the opposite side of the bed, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes moved behind closed lids – until she was sure she would cry again at any second. She ran her fingers once more through his hair, tracing around his ear and following the hairline down to the back of his neck, then pushed the blankets gently off herself and sat up as slowly as possible so as not to disturb him.

"Stay." Rachel jumped and her fingers clenched around the sheet beneath her hands. The word came out as a command, but when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, she saw the question in his eyes. She wasn't sure if he was asking her to stay the night or just to _stay_. And when she nodded wordlessly and sunk back into the mattress, letting him pull the covers up over her and wrap an arm around her to pull her close, she wasn't sure which she was agreeing to.

_**Just come over, come over, come over, come over, come over.**_


End file.
